


A Certain Kind of Eden

by AnArdentChangeling, PænkPangur (AnArdentChangeling)



Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Parenting, Death, Dogs, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, Gardens & Gardening, Gen, Light Angst, Slow Burn, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:55:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 62,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24707947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnArdentChangeling/pseuds/AnArdentChangeling, https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnArdentChangeling/pseuds/P%C3%A6nkPangur
Summary: Nestled in the foothills of the Appalachian mountains, Perdition, VA is a town where not very much happens. When the town’s newest residents bump into each other outside a coffee shop, they begin something that will change the town irrevocably. Fate continues to pull these two—Hades, former lawyer, current work in process, and Persephone, a gardener without a garden—together, but will the demons of their past keep them apart?A Human AU about death and the little things that give life its sweetness. Featuring Hecate, the ultimate wingperson and business partner, the best and naughtiest of dogs, and librarians that always seem to know a little too much.Title from a fabulous poem by Kay Ryan.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Lore Olympus)
Comments: 294
Kudos: 221





	1. Pull Your Roots and Runners

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is the first fiction I've written in years and I hope you enjoy! This story is influenced by many of my passions, but none so much as the death positivity movement. Because of this, the story involves many discussions of mortality, death, and the mortuary business. I will tag every chapter with specific content warnings, but if you are particularly sensitive to themes of death and dying, you may want to give this one a miss. 
> 
> This first chapter contains mentions of death and a plane crash. The section will be set off by a pair of asterisks. 
> 
> I owe particular thanks to my sweet frost giant. I couldn't have written this without your encouragement and editorial skills. I am so lucky to know you.

The best cure for insomnia is gardening, which was the only reason Persephone was up to her elbows in dirt at two-twenty-five a.m. on a Saturday. Her muscles felt pleasantly sore with the kind of ache that made sleep easy, even when her mind was in a rebellious mood. Her thoughts slipped away from her more easily these days. In the coolness of the early morning, the scent of earth hung heavy and sweet about her like perfume. Dirt was the scent of home, linking together all the happiest memories of her childhood: toddling around her mama’s greenhouse, playing in the mud during a rainstorm, the feel of silky soil between her toes. Persephone bit her lip, driving her spade a little harder than necessary into the yielding earth. _Stop dwelling on the past and focus on what’s in front of you_. 

With a deft motion, Persephone plucked the _Oenothera biennis_ from its plastic pot, examining the root system. The fine strands twisted around each other, forming an intricate, tightly-packed web. Well, the primrose was little root bound, but nothing she couldn’t fix. Gently, she bent away a few studier roots away from the tightly-packed bundle. After gingerly placing the evening primrose in the small gap between two stones, she wiped her forearm across her brow, patted the earth down around the plant and leaned back to survey the effect. The sunshine-yellow blossoms tumbled between decorative rocks like a stream, adding life and movement to the more sedate periwinkle mistflower, towering violet stalks of Grass-leaf Blazing Star and small clusters of _Pycnanthemum tenuifolium_. Persephone had chosen plenty of plants to attract pollinators: in just a few weeks, the children’s garden should be full of butterflies. Toward the back of the bed a few sprays of switchgrass waved lazily in the cool night breeze.

When she had submitted a proposal to the Perdition Public Library for a small garden attached to their new children’s wing, Persephone hadn’t expected any response. Honestly, she had only worked up the courage because Eros had badgered her into it. 

“‘Sephie, you have to increase your visibility! The minute you get your foot in the door, everybody will be clamoring for Asphodelus Landscaping! Take that outrageously modest instinct of yours, shove it deep down inside of you, and shamelessly promote yourself.”

So she designed a reading area with two benches and a small bed of flowers native to the region, deleted the document in a fit of self-doubt, recreated it two days later, and finally sent an itemized proposal to the Library Director. Persephone spent the next few days jumping at every call and trying not to zealously refresh her email, so that after a week of waiting and hoping, she bought herself a pint of sympathy ice cream and was determined to move past this surprisingly sharp disappointment. 

Two weeks later, she got a call from a Virginia number. “Is this Miss, uh, Percy-phone de Meter? I’m Megaera, the Assistant Library Director at the Perdition Public Library.”

“Hi! Yes, I’m Persephone. Are my fines really that bad?”

She heard a polite chuckle on the other end. “No, we don’t usually call about overdue books, we tend to break down your door and liberate them by force.” Persephone couldn’t help but snort at the image. Megaera politely let her regain her composure, then continued. “I’m actually calling about the proposal you sent us for the children’s reading garden. We all love the idea as it currently stands, but would you consider expanding it? It would be amazing to have an outdoor space to use for children’s events and readings.”

Persephone had nearly fallen out of her chair. The sudden, unexpected elation after weeks of disappointment was making her dizzy. “Um, yeah! I-I could definitely do that. Could you maybe walk me through what you’re envisioning?”

She had spent the next few days meeting with Meg and the other library staff, planning out a little sensory area with feathery grasses, soft lamb’s ear, and a little fountain for touch, rosemary and lavender for smell, wild strawberries, pansies, and Hibiscus sabdariffa for taste, and a few wind chimes for sound. The garden would also include a mulched area around the benches for any outdoor events the library might want to hold. 

Persephone hummed in satisfaction, gathering her tools and dusting off the knees of her pants with a deep yawn. The hours of spreading fertilizer and arranging plants had done their job and the rest of the task could wait until morning. She could use some sleep before trying to install the fountain. 

* * *

J. P. had decided the only suitable time to go outside was the asscrack of dawn. As usual, his whining had woken the whole pack, who were currently bounding around the bedroom, barking and howling. Hades flopped over in bed, lashing out to activate the LCD of his clock with vehemence and groaned. Three a.m.. He couldn’t get back to sleep for at least an hour. Not that he was sleeping much, anyway. The past month had been an absolute shit-show. 

He scrubbed the sleep from his eyes and croaked, “Babies, it’s okay. I’m getting up. Calm your tits.” God, he was hoarse. Moving away from the city had made his allergies a nightmare. The dogs were crawling all over each other, with the exception of Cordon Bleu, who from his bedside perch scowled at the others with disdain. 

As soon as Hades opened his bedroom door, a waterfall of drool, fur, and boundless energy scrabbled down the hall, across the small living space and dining room, past the kitchen to whine eagerly at the front door. He felt a pang of guilt as he padded after them. It was a jarring adjustment from the sprawling townhome in Potomac and he could tell the dogs felt cramped. Hopefully the yard made up for the downgrade. Mushroom hopped with anticipation by the doorknob, Russell was taking the opportunity to nip at the others’ ankles, Cerberus drooled patiently, and J. P. was shaking with eagerness. Hades fondled J.P.’s greying ears. What a good old dog. His years of friendship were worth even the earliest wake-up time. 

He slid open the door and shambled over to the coffeemaker as the dogs’ cacophony of joyous barks soon faded as they sprinted across the lawn. There was one highlight to relocating to the middle of nowhere, Virginia: no neighbors to complain about his dogs.   
Hades fumbled through the cupboards, absentmindedly searching for a mug while brooding. He had unpacked in a frenzy of manic energy, and would be damned if he could remember where he put most of his shit. 

This whole had started, as these things always do, with his brother’s dick. Zeus’ lack of discretion, common sense, and arguably a moral compass had done nothing but increase once he was elected to the Senate and it was only a matter of time until he crashed and burned. Hades flinched, disgusted by the metaphor. Why was he like this? He was just as guilty as Zeus for that crash, a fact his traitorous mind relished remembering in the early hours of the morning. 

**

Every night he was transported back to the morning he turned on the news while getting ready for work only to be greeted by the dance of flames, groan of twisted metal, and the Fulminis logo illuminated by the flashing lights of the paramedics. His hands shook so badly he could barely type into the Oracle search bar. The bite of glass into his hands, blood on the white tile. Dozens of calls, texts that his brother ignored. The pleas, shouts, threats from his solicitor, banker, girlfriend. The funerals, god, the funerals. Uneaten food sitting on his obsidian countertops left for the flies. 

Was he upset at the tragedy and loss of life, Hades thought with a pang of guilt, or at the fact it ruined his career? Seventeen years he had spent slaving away in Kronos’ law firm and he had thrown it all away. Someone in the family had to pay a restitution and Hades had always been no stranger to harsh justice. What was an indelibly tarnished reputation, a girlfriend who hadn’t bothered to reach out in weeks, and a herd of dogs crammed into a vacation home in the middle of nowhere compared to the loss of one hundred lives? 

**

The scent of fresh coffee filled the small room, but Hades needed something much stronger now. Where did he put the scotch?

* * *

“One, two, three, and LIFT!” Persephone gripped the base of the concrete fountain, straining as she and Hermes began to waddle towards its final resting place. “Let me know if you need to set it down, Hermes,” she panted.

Beads of sweat were beginning to drip down the mailman’s face as they made their way across the grassy lawn, but he grit his teeth and gamely nodded his assent. 

“Almost there! Could you turn to the left just a— Yeah, that’s it! Done!” Persephone dusted her hands off on her pants and grinned. She had spent almost three hours digging, setting up the lining, and fiddling with the pumping system, and to be so close to a finished product was, well, intoxicating. “Thanks so much for your help, Hermes. What do you think?”

Hermes pushed his cap back on his forehead and flashed a grin. “It looks really good, although I’m sure it’ll be even nicer when you’re finished. I could hardly drive past and watch you struggle to carry that monstrosity all alone, Miss Persephone.”

Persephone returned the smile. “I am a professional gardener! My biceps are like tree trunks.” Hermes snorted and she mock glared at him. “If you’re going to be like that, shoo! Let me focus on my work.” The mailman responded with the most pitiful puppy eyes she had ever seen from anyone other than Eros. “Thank you, seriously. I do need to finish this, but feel free to help yourself to the lemonade in the cooler. It’s homemade.”

She waved at Hermes as he sauntered back to his mail truck, then turned her attention to the task in front of her. She still had to fill the liner with river rocks and test out the water pressure before doing a bit of planting. “Time to get you sorted, my lovelies!” she cooed happily as she poured rocks around the base of the fountain, enjoying the warm sunshine of Virginia in early spring. 

* * *

Hades had been up for at least twelve hours, buzzed on caffeine and a not insubstantial amount of scotch, and he had a tower of paperwork to get through. Part of that, admittedly, might have been the fact that he had spent three of those hours diligently scrubbing every surface, then another hour cleaning after a muddy Fudge ran rampant throughout the house. Another had been spent arguing with an estate agent and his banker. This day had felt like a lifetime and he still wasn’t awake enough to deal with work.

Hades poured himself a glass of water, stretched, and opened his laptop. Best to go over the finances somewhat sober.

His phone buzzed, the vibrations sending it skittering across the table. Hades could feel his heart drop to his stomach. Not her. Not yet. I’m not ready to talk to her. But the cold knot of anxiety vanished when he caught sight of the caller ID. “Hello, old friend.”

“Well, somebody sounds chipper this morning. How many drinks have you had?” Hecate’s voice, so oddly flattened over the phone, had lost none of its sharpness. Hecate wasn’t at all what you would imagine of a former hospice nurse, let alone a practicing witch. She didn’t own a scarf or bangle, and would break out in hives if she wore any color other than black—with the possible exception of dark navy in summer. Tall and slender, with razor-sharp features, an elegant bob, and perfectly tailored suits, Hades’ oldest, and quite probably truest, friend had the look and attitude of a ruthless publishing executive.

Hecate was all keen insight and sharp wit, but unfortunately for the business world, her intellect was tempered by boundless compassion. And so, she turned her clear vision towards the only certainty that there is in life: its end. Hecate rubbed the feet of the dying, lent them a little of her own strength to face the end of their days, and cared for their bodies after death. Somehow she also managed to travel across the country, write books, and speak at conferences and events. Hades envied her certainty and passion.

Hades couldn’t help but chuckle. “Just enough to keep going. You know I am old enough to look after myself, right? How’s Seattle treating you?”

Hecate snorted, “Rainy and bleak. Luckily, the conference has been far more cheerful. Well, besides having to listen to the assholes trying to up-sell snake oil.” Hades could hear the vicious smile in her voice. “Luckily, most of them were foolish enough to allow questions.”

“Ooof, like lambs leading themselves to the slaughter. I almost feel sorry for them. So how did the lecture go?”

“Hades, please, you know I killed it. I practically got a standing ovation.”

He chuckled, “Of course. You’re a rock star. Did you happen to see any of the old crew?”

“Yes, Eresh was a keynote speaker.” Hades smirked. Of course Hecate would be so casual about socializing with her ex and former business partner. “Also, Thanatos said to tell you that you’re a dick.”

“Ouch, good to know he’s still bitter about ancient history.”

“In his defense, you were a relentlessly smug bastard about your academics.” Hecate’s voice softened slightly and Hades could picture the concern in her eyes, “Seriously, though, how are you doing?”

Dammit.

“I’m fine. Coping.” He groaned inwardly, his lie wouldn’t convince a stranger, let alone Hecate.

“Hades, have you even left your house in the past few days?”

He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “You know, I am trying to adjust to a pretty big upheaval and get a new business off the ground.”

“Old friend, I’m saying this because I care about you. You can pour all your anger and pain into your work, but it won’t help you heal. What Zeus did, what he put you and those families through, was terrible. You can’t change that. You can either dwell on it and constantly run through all the ways you could have prevented the accident and spend all your days wracked with guilt or you can use this as a break from your old life and start fresh.”

“Hecate,” Hades growled, feeling his his pulse pounding in his ears, “I respect you, but you have no idea what I’m going through. I poured my heart and soul into the firm and lost it all in a moment. I can’t even mourn it, because I chose this. I-I deserve this.” And so much worse. _There is blood on my hands, caked beneath my nails that the work of a thousand lifetimes could never wash away_.

“Your grief is understandable and what you’re trying to do is noble, Hades. I’m just worried you’re going to burn out if you don’t look after yourself. When was the last time you were happy?” Hecate’s gentleness was so palpable that he knew he was moments away from breaking down, either in weeping or heart-pounding rage.

“Goddammit, Hecate, if anyone else talked to me the way you do-“

“You haven’t answered the question.”

Hades exhaled through his nose, clenching and unclenching his fist. “I don’t know, fuck, maybe when Mushroom finished PT?” Two years ago, driving home from one of Zeus’ booze-drenched parties, he had rounded a bend to find a dog laying in the shoulder of the road. It had taken months to nurse Mushroom back to health, hours spent at the clinic, but it had all been worth it for the rush of fierce joy Hades felt when his bright-eyed husky had bounded into his arms for the first time. He felt like he could move mountains.

“Despite what you may believe, Hades, you’re a good man. You deserve happiness.” Hecate paused and the weight of all the things Hades wanted to say crashed around him like a wave. He couldn’t open his mouth, couldn’t let the words spill out without breaking down. Hecate let the silence stretch on a little longer, then cleared her throat. “Listen, I have to go, the next session starts soon. I know you’re working yourself ragged on getting the business ready. Why don’t you kill two birds with one stone and spruce up your new place a bit? Soften all the concrete and make it feel more homey. I have the card of a pretty good gardener, I can text you the info.”

“Hecate, I think I can manage planting a few flowers.“

“You don’t have to do everything yourself, you know. Besides, if she’s really good, maybe we could convince her to design some plantings for the funeral home. I’m resolute on this one, Hades. I’m sure the dogs would appreciate a greener space. And you,” relief washed over Hades as he heard the familiar sardonic smile return to her voice, “need to surround yourself with a color other than grey.”


	2. Not in the Sweet of Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone prepares herself for the grand opening of her reading garden to the public.
> 
> No content warnings this chapter. Enjoy the fluff!

Today was a beautiful day—the late morning sunshine filled her apartment with a happy glow, she had curated the perfect getting-ready playlist, and she had even plucked a sprig of mint to garnish a cool glass of tea—so Persephone was determined that her nothing would dampen her spirits. Even without the drink and music, she would have been excited, because today was the day the children’s garden would officially open. Persephone had been looking forward to this day since she started on the project and it seemed like the rest of the community was almost as delighted as she was. The Perdition library had somehow managed to book Arachne Williams to do an inaugural reading of her latest in the Itsy Bitsy Imogen series. Meg had insisted that Persephone attend as a guest of honor and she could hardly refuse even if she wanted. And she didn’t. Mostly.

Persephone sipped her tea, savoring the tang of black tea and lemon peel while scanning her small collection of makeup. She would probably just wear moisturizer, a bit of blush, lip gloss, mascara, and her favorite warm rose highlighter that accented her russet-brown skin and magenta curls. Persephone turned up her music and sashayed over to the closet, humming softly to herself.  
Honestly, she was nervous about the event. The evening before, she had spent almost two hours trying to decide on which dress to wear and before doing something drastic, like driving out to the only store open past eight p.m., she deployed her secret weapon.

  
Sephie: FASHION EMERGENCY! Help!  
Eros: FatesTime. Now.

  
She ended up spending almost the entire evening FatesTiming with Eros and Psyche. After a quick fashion show Eros reassured her that her white linen dress would be just perfect with her new sandals. Of course, he had wolf-whistled, pretended to swoon into Psyche’s lap, and said she was a knockout, but that was Eros for “you look fine.”

They ended up watching Die Hard while Persephone did her hair, saturating each section with conditioner, and putting on her favorite bright pink shower cap. It was good to spend time with her friends, laugh with them, and see them happy. The warmth in the lingering glances Psyche and Eros shared and the unabashed joy in their laughter practically radiated through the computer screen, and after they logged off, Peresphone couldn’t help but notice how cold and empty her apartment felt by comparison. 

Persephone pulled her car into the small lot beside the library, turned the engine off, and rolled down the windows just a bit. She was fifteen minutes early; plenty of time for a mild-to-moderate pep talk. She exhaled shakily. “Okay, Persephone, it’s showtime. Now’s my big moment! I handled fountain installation, spent hours in the hot sun, and haggled with Hephaestus for a quarter off those cool wooden benches.” Shit, she forgot to write him a positive review on Oracle! She shook her head. It could wait until the evening. 

She adjusted the rear-view mirror so she could make eye contact with herself. “Just stay in the moment, focus on soaking in the positivity, and enjoy spending time with your friends. I have worked hard and I’ve earned this. Don’t get sidetracked worrying about publicity or cameras, okay?” This would be nothing like the stiff posing for press releases, her mama’s hand holding her just a little too tight, the college promotional photos, the ache of a fake smile plastered on for just a few more seconds than felt comfortable, and the endless flashes that made her skin crawl.   
Her phone buzzed and she fished through her purse to find it. 

Meg: I’m hanging out by the front desk whenever you get here! 💜

She typed out a quick response and bit her lip. She hadn’t been this nervous since her first debate freshman year. Her phone pinged again and she glanced at the screen.

Eros: Go out there and slay! That town is lucky to have you and they know it. And if they don’t, sic Artemis on them. 💗❤️💖🥰🥳🕺🎉🍾💖❤️💗

She laughed, touched by her friend’s thoughtfulness and sickening amount of emojis. She texted a quick kissy emoji to Eros and gathered her things. It was time. She was going to kick ass.

In the end, she needed to do very little, her work spoke for itself. Persephone followed Meg, smiling at her friend’s vain attempts to not skip, along the pathway of paver stones extended from the side door closest to the children’s wing of the library, leading into a mulched reading area with six wooden benches.

Persephone had laid out the flower beds in an organic, curving shape, artificially building up little height to the side closest to the library. It acted as a bit of a border between the library and the garden, as soon as Persephone passed by the filmy grasses and flowering shrubs, she felt a little glow of pride. She had hoped to make this feel secluded, like the visitors would pass from the library doors into another world and she had succeeded. Along the sides of the berm, she had arranged all the plants that would attract pollinators, and just as she hoped, the flowers were alive with the fluttering of wings. 

The library staff had festooned the reading area with strings of bright paper lanterns, colorful pinwheels and banners, and of course, lots of refreshments. Gentle music played over the loudspeakers, the fountain babbled softly, and the late afternoon sunshine bathed the whole scene in a radiant, unearthly glow. 

As their parents milled around, chatting happily and enjoying the food, children were wandering among the plants, squealing with delight at the insect hotel, and playing with the wind chimes. The grasses and tall spikes of _Liatris pilosa_ swayed slowly in the wind and the butterflies and bees dancing between the bright yellow, purple, and magenta blossoms of the smaller plants added to the feeling of life and movement. 

The sensory garden seemed to be a particular hit. Persephone was glad that she had put up signs around the plants that were safe to eat, because a few toddlers were already happily munching on the hibiscus. One little girl was engrossed in the lamb’s ear, petting it and humming softly. 

Meg beamed at her, practically bouncing with glee, and gestured expansively. “So, what do you think?”

“It’s perfect,” Persephone whispered. A small girl hopped from rock to rock, crowing her joy with unabashed delight. The stepping stones were a late addition to the design, but clearly a popular one. Persephone had worked so hard for this moment, spent all her time, energy, and money working towards this beautiful, heart-achingly perfect garden. She desperately wanted to bask in this glorious, golden afternoon and drink in adulation like the warm rays of the sun against her skin, but she just couldn’t. Already, she could see the leaves drooping in the heat, petals beginning to wither and discolor. She was an excellent gardener, but even she couldn’t halt nature. These golden, picture perfect afternoons couldn’t last. Persephone knew that better than anyone. No matter how hard her mother had tried, the perfect days of sunlight would always fade. Persephone blinked quickly, trying to banish the ache settling in her chest, and quickly dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

Meg placed a hand on her arm, her deep brown eyes warm and steady. “It’s all you, girl. Look at how happy you’ve made them.” Persephone nodded shakily, and then she breathed a sigh of relief a Meg gathered her up in a huge hug. She let her smile relax for just a moment while Meg couldn’t see her and closed her eyes. Her friend was so excited. She couldn’t dampen Meg’s mood. No matter what the librarian said, this garden was just as much her work as Persephone’s. Meg pulled away and giggled. “Let’s get some food!”

Persephone grinned, walking quickly to keep up with Meg, who had completely given up every pretense of trying not to skip and was now practically flying across the clearing, her purple twists swinging back and forth with every bound. Persephone could work through her feelings that evening when she was home. Maybe some cake would help.

They only had slices of vanilla cake, which normally would have been fine, but Persephone had been craving dark chocolate all day. She helped herself to a small slice of cake, loaded up the rest of her plate with fruit, and poured a cool glass of lemonade. “Why don’t we sit in the shade? I want to hear everything about your latest project!”

Meg squealed, “I thought you would never ask!” The two women sat down on an unoccupied bench and Meg gushed about her digital collection initiative while Persephone nibbled on her brownie. At first, Persephone hadn’t known what to make of Megaera. She was determined and passionate about her work to the point of being, well, terrifying and pretty intense.

On their first day working together, Meg pulled out a binder she had made for the project with flowcharts, a mission statement, and even a bedazzled cover (the only blemishes of her organizational scheme was a lack of tabs or color-coordination, but Persephone could look past that). At first, she had been worried about disappointing the Assistant Library Director, but Megaera’s focus and enthusiasm helped fuel Persephone’s drive to make something beautiful for Perdition. And the occasional calls she overheard Meg make to the city council when they had earned her ire didn’t hurt. Persephone’s small, bubbly new friend could be absolutely blood-curdling when she wanted to be.

Eventually, Meg was pulled aside by a very official woman to help set up the area for Miss Williams’ reading of Imogen’s Sunshiny Saturday and Persephone was alone again. She leaned back against the bench, took a deep swig of lemonade as the background chatter faded to a low drone, and closed her eyes.

“Congratulations, Persephone. I know this is a momentous day for you.”

Persephone’s reverie was broken by a woman’s voice and she started, almost spilling her lemonade down the front of her sundress. “Um, hi. Sorry, I was worlds away. Have we met?”

The woman smiled, extending a hand. “Not formally. I’m Lachesis, the Director of the Perdition Library. I must say, we’re very impressed with this beautiful space you created.” “Oh!” Persephone blushed. “Thanks. It was a pleasure, really. Um, your library is really nice, it was great to have the opportunity to work on this project.”

Lachesis smiled widely, light reflecting off her round glasses and into Persephone’s eyes. “The pleasure is ours, well, Perdition’s. We are incredibly fortunate to have you. I’ll be sure to recommend your services to other local businesses.” She looked over at the gathering crowd. “It was wonderful to meet you, Persephone, but I’m afraid I’m needed elsewhere. Apparently Arachne brought sound equipment and a guitar.” She wandered off and Persephone let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. That was a bit weird. 

The event lasted well until dusk: Arachne Williams was engaging, funny, and surprisingly eager to participate in sing-alongs and the children hung on her every word. Eventually, the mosquitoes and night-time bugs drove even the most tenacious parents to usher their little ones back home.

Persephone was taken aback at how many people sought her out and thanked her, by the end of the day she had shaken more hands and been hugged by more people than she had met in the last three months of living in Perdition. She stuck around after everyone but the library staff drifted out and honestly, helping Meg carry chairs and gather up the decorations made her feel the most relaxed she had been all day. Persephone was happiest in a whirlwind of manic energy, flitting from project to project, darting around in a blur of activity and focus. As long as her hands stayed busy and her mind focused on the task at hand, she could pretend that everything was fine. But she had to stop moving eventually.

Persephone really wanted, no, needed chocolate cake, which is why she stopped by the local coffee shop on her way home. Actually, it was fifteen minutes out of her way, but the cake was really good. The coffee shop was a modest building squeezed between a thrift store and a little boutique that tourists loved and none of the locals could afford. It was small, cozy and usually fairly busy. The draw was the desserts and drinks, not the prospect of spending an hour reading a novel while half-listening to the chatter of dozens of conversations. Which wasn’t why Persephone was a little disappointed by all the open parking spaces, she was fine being alone.

She grabbed her purse, a paperback, and her well-loved oversized hoodie. The evening was surprisingly chilly and besides, are you really reading in a coffee shop if you aren’t wearing a cozy sweatshirt? As soon as she opened the door, a wave of warm, coffee-scented air rolled over her and she sighed. The shop had a nice mix of couches, studying nooks, tables, and a bar alongside the far end of the wall. The walls were festooned with a variety of work by local artists, as well as posters for events and concerts in the nearest city, and a big cork board advertising local events. Soft music played over the speakers, and besides Persephone, there were maybe six other patrons.

But, most importantly, the little glass case of desserts next to the register had not one, but two slices of sinfully chocolate goodness. Persephone zeroed in on the cake like a bird of prey. A patron who had just finished his sandwich half-rose from his seat with his eye on the cake, but a withering look from Persephone was all it took for the man to suddenly reconsider his choice of dessert for the evening. No one would get between Persephone and her cake if they knew what was good for them.

“Hi! Could I have a slice of your chocolate cake and… mm, a hot tea?”

The server, a tall, kind-eyed woman with traditional tattoos stretching from the back of her hands to her neck, nodded. “Sure. What kind of tea would you like?”

Persephone bit her lip, scanning the menu. “Uh, something herbal. What do you recommend,” she squinted at the name, “Miss Orphne?”

The woman barked a laugh. “Please, honey, I’m old enough to be your mama. No Miss, just Orphne. As for the tea, I’d recommend our hibiscus, rose, and lemon blend.”

“Oh, yes please! That sounds delicious.” Orphne rang up the total and Persephone fished her debit card out of her wallet and swiped it. “Oh, um, by the way, I reallylikeyourtattoos!”

Orphne chuckled. “Thanks, hun. I like your hair, pink really suits you.”

Persephone blushed, glancing up from the payment screen, and instinctively reaching up to touch her tight curls. “Thank you!” Orphne handed her the steaming cup of tea and Persephone took it with a reverent hum. “This smells amazing. Thank you so much, Orphne. Have a great evening!”

“You too, hun. Enjoy your cake.”

Persephone carefully picked up her slice of cake and glanced around the mostly empty space. A couple sat on one of the couches, watching a video together on a phone, a young man hunched over his computer, typing furiously and sipping on a coffee Persephone was sure must be stone-cold, a middle-aged woman was curled up on an overstuffed chair, the clack of her knitting needles punctuated by her occasional snorts at something she must be listening to, and one woman in a black jacket sat with her back to Persephone at a table in the middle of the room, typing lazily.

Persephone did a double-take, her brow furrowed. The woman looked out of place, too crisp and elegant for the small town. But Persephone was sure that she’d seen her before. She’d just walk past the woman and curl up in a chair at the far end of the coffee shop. She clutched her cake in a way she hoped seemed nonchalant and wove between the tables, just skirting around the woman. At the sound of movement, the woman turned her head and Persephone recognized her profile instantly. “Hecate!”

Hecate jumped a bit and Persephone felt a stab of guilt. Okay, maybe squealing at an acquaintance at eight P.M. was a bad idea. Oops. _Nice going, Kore_. Hecate, of course, regained her composure almost immediately and stood, arms spread wide and smile even wider. “Persephone! How are you?”

Persephone set down her cake and wrapped her arms around Hecate in a tight hug. “‘M good. How are you doing? Are you here on a book tour?”

“I’m doing well. I just got back from a conference, actually, but I’m living in Virginia full-time now. I’m going into business with an old friend.”

Persephone beamed. “That’s amazing! I know we ran into each other a few weeks ago, but I though it was a fluke! I didn’t imagine you’d move to a town as small as Perdition. Will you keep writing? I mean,” she paused, eyes wide, “I’m so sorry, that was really personal, I just really love your books and I hope you keep writing. E-even if it’s just for you,” she finished lamely.

Hecate listened to Persephone’s verbal diarrhea with a playful grin. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m not giving up on my books. I’m just taking a break to spend some more time practicing my craft.”

“Ah, I didn’t realize Perdition had a funeral home!”

“Not yet.” Hecate leaned back, studying her small friend. “Forgive me, I didn’t ask, how is your business going? Have you finished the library project?”

“Oh yes! It went better than expected. You should visit it. If you want.”

Hecate’s eyes grew a little brighter. “Excellent. Do you have any other pending projects?”

Persephone shifted awkwardly, a little embarrassed. “As of now, no. But I’m hopeful the reading area will increase my visibility. I probably should also work on my social media presence.”

If Persephone hadn’t been so self-conscious, she might have caught the fleeting gleam in Hecate’s eyes, the corners of her mouth curving upwards in a cunning grin. But she was looking away, and when she turned back to her friend, Hecate’s face was carefully schooled into a neutral expression. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of contracts in no time. You’re an incredible gardener and anyone would be lucky to have you design something for them.” Hecate reached out, resting a hand on Persephone’s arm. “We should hang out sometime and catch up. Unfortunately, I have a meeting with a friend in about fifteen minutes.” Hecate glared at her watch. “He usually is either fifteen minutes early or almost an hour late.” 

“Ooh, hopefully I’m still here so I can eavesdrop on the scolding!” Persephone smiled and gave her friend one final hug before making her way over to a cozy chair. It took all her restraint and self-discipline not to devour her cake in one bite. She curled up in the chair instead, tucking her legs in at the perfect angle to rest her book against. She sighed happily and sipped her tea. It was perfect, a warm, soothing floral taste with a hint of sourness. Definitely a new favorite; she’d have to make note of it in her bullet journal. She made eye contact with Orphne and flashed her a huge smile and a thumbs up. The server smiled back and continued tidying. 

Persephone settled into her chair once again, nestled her book in the most comfortable position and flipped through the worn pages until she found her bookmark. She had read and re-read _The Lathe of Heaven_ at least four times since her freshman year of college and every time she opened the book, it felt like coming home. She had just reached the part where George Orr was attending his first session with Haber and soon Persephone lost herself in the prose, swept away to the psychiatrist’s office in another Seattle, to her dorm room the first time she read it, to the hot tears she’d cried on the bus on the way to her mother’s home. She felt a sharp rush of delight every time a phrase struck her anew, and eventually she had to grab her pencil out of her purse to underline her favorite turns of phrase and scribble new notes in the margins. 

Persephone’s cake was gone by the end of the chapter, and after she sipped at her empty cup one too many times, Orphne walked over and handed her a fresh, steaming cup of tea in a travel cup. She absentmindedly took a sip and hummed. Less honey than she would have liked, but it was still just what she needed.

Her phone buzzed and she glanced at it. Her 9:15 reminder to fill out her bullet journal was flashing across her lock screen. Persephone squeaked. She had been in the coffee shop for more than an hour! She frantically gathered up her things, nestling _The Lathe of Heaven_ into her purse beside her phone, and glanced over at Hecate, expecting to see her friend mid-way through a scathing lecture.

Instead, Hecate sat alone, typing furiously into her phone, the clack of her nails and thinness of her smile more frightening than a scowl. Persephone waved, half-hoping Hecate wouldn’t notice. Her friend’s eyes snapped up and her face took a second to soften. “Heading home?”

“Yeah,” Persephone smiled sheepishly. “Honestly, I didn’t plan to stay this long.”

Hecate stood, holding out her arms, and Persephone flitted over to embrace her friend. “I hope your evening improves, Hecate!”

Hecate chuckled, but Persephone could see the worry in her eyes. “Oh it will. I’m not letting him off easy. Goodnight, Persephone. How about we get coffee next week?”

Persephone nodded, scampering towards the door. She paused, turning her head around to give a final wave to Hecate, and stepped out into the cool night with a happy sigh. She closed her eyes, breathing in the softly-scented air, then turned to rummage for her keys in her purse. She started to walk towards her car and immediately collided with a person. Persephone shrieked, losing her balance and her grip on her cup, and spilled warm tea all over herself and the stranger. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

A pair of strong hands held her gently by the shoulders, steadying Persephone. “You really should watch where you’re going.” The man’s voice was low and teasing.

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry!” Persephone started dabbing with her hoodie sleeves at the purple-red stain spreading across his dress shirt. “It’s all my fault, I’m happy to pay for cleaning…” It was then she realized she was eye-level with the stranger’s abdomen, and worse yet, she was rubbing her hoodie all over said stranger’s torso. She looked up, meeting the man’s eyes nervously. “Um, c-cleaning or, um, a r-replacement,” she finished lamely, cursing internally at herself.

The man looked down at her, meeting her eyes over the rim of his glasses. His eyes were a little bloodshot, but the brightest blue she’d ever seen. Persephone held his gaze steadily, drawing in a breath, readying herself for an angry diatribe. And then he grinned and ducked his head. “No, please, don’t worry about it. The fault is at least half mine. I have fifteen identical shirts at home, I won’t miss this one.” Persephone couldn’t miss the fact that his breath smelled like a liquor store and his sandy skin was flushed. But she also couldn’t help but notice the way his movements cause his light blonde hair to drift onto his forehead and how his smile revealed just a hint of dimples.

“So you have more than three of the same white button-downs, huh? That seems a bit excessive.”

The man opened his eyes wide, blinked, and then barked out a laugh. “Heh, I have to keep a few backups. Just in case a goddess spills her drink on me.”

Persephone blushed. She opened her mouth to reply, but stopped when she saw how the man had frozen in place, staring at her dress. And then the cold dread clawed through her stomach. _Of course._ He was just a drunk asshole staring at her breasts. Why did that disappoint her so much?

“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize your dress was stained.” Persephone looked down and, sure enough, her entire front was covered in drying purple-red tea. The man pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing as though he were in pain. Persephone could barely make out his mumble. “And I’ve kept you out here in the cold, drunken old fool.”

Persephone reached for his arm, resting her hand softly against the outer bicep, and squeezed gently. “It’s okay, really!” The man glanced at her hand for a brief moment and she just barely caught the way the tension in his face melted away.

And then his gaze was locked on her eyes, searching her face with laser-like intensity, and she could feel a flush creeping up her neck. “You are very kind, but it’s a beautiful dress. Please let me pay for dry cleaning at the very least,” his large hand covered hers gently. “And if the stain doesn’t come out,” he looked away sheepishly, a soft smile showcasing his dimples, “c-could I buy you a replacement?”

Persephone froze for just a brief moment, feeling the heat reaching her cheeks and forehead, her stomach churning. “Um. That’s incredibly generous of you, but I, uh—“

He glanced up with alarm. “Oh, shit, I wasn’t trying to—Fuck. I just meant… I’m sorry, that probably sounded a bit…”

“Forward?” Persephone offered with a raised eyebrow.

“I was going to say sleazy, but yeah.” He dipped his head again, raising a hand to rub the back of his neck. “I just figured you probably don’t have a closet full of matching dresses. I don’t want you to be any the worse for having met me.”

Persephone couldn’t help but smile. He was awkward and very self-deprecating, but his earnestness was endearing. He was also incredibly handsome, even in this terrible lighting. “That’s sweet of you and I appreciate the offer, really.” Persephone grinned more widely, tilting her head at what she hoped was a mischievous angle. “I suspect you’re the only person that buys repeats of the same outfit, though, Mr…”

He laughed, meeting her eyes again. His posture relaxed slightly and Persephone let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “It’s Hades. Just Hades. And besides,” he gestured expansively to the dark blazer, tailored slacks, dress shirt, and loosened tie he wore, “If it isn’t broke, why fix it?” Hades waggled his eyebrows ridiculously to punctuate his statement.

Mirth bubbled up in Persephone and she giggled helplessly at the man. She covered her mouth, taking a few steadying breaths. She could flirt a little. Just to gauge his interest. “So.. what if I want to get in touch with you, Hades?” Oh god, abort! This was the most awkward flirting she had done in years, the tea and adrenaline must have gone to her head. “Um, for the dress. T-the dress stain…” she trailed off, every nerve buzzing and jangling with anxiety. She worried at her lip, looking up at the handsome man, realizing she must look like a deer in the headlights.

Hades grinned, peering over his glasses and cocking one eyebrow at a decidedly smug angle. Persephone was outraged that he had the audacity to look even more handsome. “Well, luckily for you, I always carry my card around.” He fished in his blazer pocket, drew out a dark business card, and paused, tapping the card on his chin thoughtfully. “Although, you have cruelly insulted my sense of fashion, so I shudder to think what you’ll make of the card design.”

Persephone crossed her arms in mock indignation. “I did not! You look nice. I just observed that you aren’t the most adventurous dresser.”

Hades beamed, his teeth flashing in a wide grin. “Well, I suppose I can give you my card, then. If you think I look nice.”

Persephone rolled her eyes and reached out her hand for the card, trying to ignore the way her pulse was racing. If Hades noticed the way her hand shook, he was enough of a gentleman to pretend he didn’t. He gently placed his business card in her hand like it was a flower that could blow away or crumble at any moment. Persephone held the card close to her face. “Hmm… Nice paper, I like the dark blue. Ooh, that font is very official. Wait,” her brow furrowed as she peered closer at the card, “Is your last name Klymenos? Very cool.”

“Yeah, most people can’t pronounce it, so I usually just go with Hades.” He smiled at her again, his eyes warm and inviting. “You said it perfectly, though. I’m very impressed.”

Persephone chuckled awkwardly, brushing a curl behind her ear. “Well, I took one Greek class in college, so I’m kinda an expert.”

Hades laughed again, harder than Persephone thought the joke warranted, but he was pretty tipsy. “If you’ve taken one class, you know more than I do. It’s all Greek to me.” He raised his eyebrows and flashed her a cheeky grin.

Persephone snorted. “Ugh, that’s terrible.”

“But you laughed.”

“It was a moment of weakness.”

Hades shifted his weight, his smile softening, his gaze fixed on hers with warm she could almost feel against her skin and opened his mouth to reply, but his phone buzzed. They both started and the mood—if it existed at all, Persephone wasn’t entirely sure—was broken. Hades frantically hunted for his phone and checked the screen. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was so late.”

Persephone blushed, glancing over at her car and back at the tall man. “Yes, of course. I didn’t mean to keep you!”

“Oh, no, I-I didn’t mean it like that. You have nothing to apologize for, I just assumed you had somewhere to be, other than standing in the cold with a stranger.” Hades smiled ruefully down at her. 

Persephone shifted, gathering her hoodie more tightly around her. “I should be heading home. But, Hades,” his eyebrows raised, his face relaxing just a bit, “I had a lot of fun chatting with you. And I can pronounce your last name perfectly, remember, so you’re hardly a stranger.” 

Persephone waved at him with a happy smile, turning to walk towards her car. She had only made it a few steps when the man’s cry arrested her. “Wait!” She glanced back at him, eyes wide. “Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just, um… you never mentioned your name.” His cheeks and the tips of his ears were a bright scarlet. “I mean, it’s okay if you didn’t want to tell me, I just was wondering…” He trailed off with a forlorn expression that broke Persephone’s heart. 

She froze. _Sugar snaps!_ She had been so focused on trying to flirt with this distractingly handsome man, and here she had made him think she hated him or was the world’s biggest asshole. _Stupid small-town girl. Only I could fuck this up._ “Oh! U-uh, I’m Kore! It was lovely to meet you, Hades!” 

He smiled back, waving enthusiastically, “The pleasure was all mine, Kore. I hope to see you again soon.”

Persephone hurried to her car, got in, started the engine, and then realized what she said. _FUCK!_ She hit her head against the steering wheel. _And now I can never see him again, because I’ll have to explain that my name is Kore, but actually I now go by Persephone: the world’s most awkward human being._ Persephone desperately wished the earth would swallow her whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit long, but I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> All thanks, as always, to my sweet frost giant. Thank you for your encouragement, flirting advice, and endless cups of tea. My heart is the least I can give you.


	3. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite his best efforts, Hades is incredibly late for a meeting and just a little drunk. After an encounter with the divine, he meets with Hecate and begins to take serious steps toward opening a funeral home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry this chapter is a bit late, this was a week. 
> 
> This chapter contains some discussion of an abusive relationship, a plane crash, death and funeral practices (including mention of animal death), and mentions of casual racism and homophobia. As always, I will set off these sections with double asterisks. It's not a super heavy chapter, but I'll also summarize the chapter in the notes in case you need to skip. :)
> 
> All of my thanks and all of my love to my dear frost giant, who endures my love of mortuary science, mastiffs, and labored metaphors with the grace befitting a saint. I love you, darling.

Hades knew he should feel guilty. He genuinely hadn’t meant to keep Hecate waiting. He had been in the middle of gathering the financial documents, permits, business plans, and laptop into his briefcase when he his cellphone pinged. As he was opening up the email from Minthe’s work address, he knew he had made a grave miscalculation. 

Hey Big Blue,   
I figured I should give you a warning about this article in the Times before you stumble on it in the wild. It’s pretty shocking: journalists just run with any angle these days.

**At least your brother had the good sense to contact a publicist asap. Still so sure you don’t want my professional help?   
Let me know when you get off your high horse. I’ll always be here.   
Tadpole

There was a thumbnail of the article at the bottom of the email, because of course Minthe couldn’t be bothered to actually link him to the article, but just the image was enough to stop Hades cold. ‘ _This Could Have Been Prevented’: Klymenos Firm Slammed with Allegations of Corruption Following Deadly Airplane Crash_. The headline was enough to make Hades feel dizzy, but the photo of the plane wreckage—metal bent like the rib cage of some prehistoric animal, blackened by fire, ash falling like snow around a solitary first responder sifting through the carnage—made Hades run to the sink to vomit. He didn’t need to read the article. He already knew what it said. The same accusations echoed in his mind every sleepless night while he tossed and turned in bed.**

Hades staggered to the couch, wrapping his arms around Cerberus, weeping into the mastiff’s soft, dark fur. Hades proceeded to drink until the bite of alcohol erased the bitter taste of bile that lingered in his mouth, then poured himself a glass of scotch to take the edge off. After drinking a few cups of coffee and feeding the dogs, he still didn’t feel sober enough to drive. He had considered calling Hecate and cancelling, but thought better of it. He didn’t want to be alone. And they did need to go over the plans for the business. He called a cab. 

Hades asked the cab to drop him off two blocks before the coffee shop. He had hoped the the cool spring evening would help him sober up enough to avoid unpleasant questions. By this point, Hecate had texted him seven times and left him two voicemails and the guilt had settled like a millstone in his gut. Hades felt ashamed at opening her texts without responding earlier. She’d be able to see that he’d read them and know he was alive. That was enough, right?

Hecate: Where are you, Hades?

Apparently not. 

Hecate: You’re an hour late.  
Hecate: I know you’re reading these.   
Hecate: Just let me know you’re okay. I’m worried about you. 

_Fuck._ He could just imagine Hecate, brow furrowed in concern and anger, frantically trying to reach him. It wouldn’t be the first time in the past few months. Hades rounded the corner, scowling at his phone while he typed furiously.

Hades: Sorry. I’m alive. Minthe situation. On my—

It was at this moment he collided with a goddess and, as her drink splashed against his shirt, all his thoughts spilled from his mind. Her drink was warm against his skin for just a few moments, but it soon cooled in the crisp night air as it spread across his shirt. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

She almost fell over and, instinctively, Hades reached out to steady her, trying to smile reassuringly. “You really should watch where you’re going.”

The woman was so small and her voice shook with anguish. “I know, I know, I’m so sorry!” She closed the space between them, using her own sweater to tenderly blot away the stain blossoming on his shirt. Hades exhaled hard through his nose, eyes wide, frozen in place, staring down at her. She must have noticed his tension, because she looked up at him, eyes wide, mouth just slightly parted, stammering an apology. “It’s all my fault, I’m happy to pay for cleaning or a replacement!”

Hades was a deeply rational man. His brothers always mocked him for dissecting the inconsistencies in movies, his father’s excuses, and Zeus’ schemes. His name was “Killjoy” (or sometimes “Assface” if Zeus was feeling creative) in their group text, which only “Swamp King” left unmuted anymore. Hades prided himself on his ability to find flaws and weaknesses, which made him an excellent lawyer and was the primary reason his exes cited for the eventual demise of their relationship. Usually they peppered their tirades with the phrase “cold-hearted bastard.” He wasn’t, though sometimes he wished he were. It certainly would make the loneliness more bearable. He could live with himself, though, and that was usually enough. But as he gazed, transfixed, into this woman’s bright, hazel eyes, Hades wished desperately that he was the sort of person that people liked.

She almost looked afraid and Hades felt a pang of guilt. He was a strange man looming over her and staring unblinkingly, of course she was scared. Great. He broke eye contact, glancing at the ground in a way he hoped looked non-threatening. He stammered something hastily, desperately wanting to make her feel more at ease, and like a drowning man floundering for something to grab onto, Hades latched onto self-deprecation. “No, please, don’t worry about it. The fault is at least half mine. I have fifteen identical shirts at home, I won’t miss this one.”

Her eyebrows shot up and she smiled wide, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “So you have more than three of the same white button-downs, huh? That seems a bit excessive.”

Oh no, he knew he shouldn’t talk about his clothes! _Now she must think I’m a rich asshole, drunkly bragging about how many shirts I can afford…_ But she was looking up at him with warmth in her eyes, her perfect mouth in an even more perfect smirk. _Wait, was she…flirting?_ Hades blinked slowly, trying to fight the laughter welling up in him. He failed, and the laugh came out as more of a drunken chortle. “Hah! I have to keep a few backups. Just in case a goddess spills her drink on me.” _Shit. That was laying it on a little thick._

To his shock, the beautiful woman beamed up at him, shyly looking up at him through her eyelashes. Hades was transfixed. Her bright pink spiral curls just brushed her collarbones, her rich, brown skin a luminous contrast against the light color of her dress. A dress that was soaked through the front with a purple stain.

Hades felt his stomach drop. _Fuck. No._ It was just his luck to meet the most beautiful, funny, amazing woman in this god-forsaken place and be so plastered that he didn’t realize he irreparably ruined her clothes. He glanced back up to her eyes and her look of reproach cut him to the quick. _She must hate me._ “Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize your dress was stained.” He shut his eyes tightly. He had forced her to stand in the cold, shivering, listening to the pathetic, clumsy flirtations of a dirty old man. He couldn’t bear to see the disgust in her beautiful eyes. It was enough to turn him off scotch. He pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing up his glasses slightly, waiting for the blow to fall.

Instead, a small, warm hand settled on his bicep with a soft squeeze. “It’s okay, really!” Her voice was as gentle as summer rain and Hades had to stop himself from leaning into her touch.

He looked at her disbelievingly. She was too good, too kind, her beautiful face gazing up at him with an easy smile. He noticed the dark freckles dusting the bridge of her nose, the slight brown speckles in her hazel eyes. She was breathtaking. He had to make this up to her. “You are very kind, but it’s a beautiful dress. Please let me pay for dry cleaning at the very least.” Hades hesitated, then tentatively touched her hand. “And if the stain doesn’t come out, c-could I buy you a replacement?” He blushed, embarrassed at his stammer.

“Oh, um. That’s incredibly generous of you, but I, uh—“

 _SHIT! Oh god. Oh fuck._ Hades’ stomach churned and he stammered, ““Oh, shit, I wasn’t trying to—Fuck. I just meant… I’m sorry, that probably sounded a bit…”

“Forward?” She raised her eyebrow coquettishly.

Hades exhaled shakily, trying not to betray his relief at her playful tone. “I was going to say sleazy, but yeah. I just figured you probably don’t have a closet full of matching dresses. I don’t want you to be any the worse for having met me.” He looked down at her, searching her eyes for a reaction to his confession.

“That’s sweet of you and I appreciate the offer. I suspect you’re the only person that buys repeats of the same outfit, though, Mr…”

She wanted to know his name. **For a few blissful moments, he forgot about the crash, the feeling of Minthe’s fingernails biting into his skin, the venom behind all her smiles.** He even managed to push out the thought of Hecate’s worried texts, her disappointment at being kept waiting. “It’s Hades. Just Hades.”

“Wait!” She turned around to face him, hair swirling around her like a halo. Her eyes sparkled in the half-light. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just, um… you never mentioned your name.” Hades could feel the heat pooling in his cheeks, spreading to the tips of his ears. “It’s okay if you didn’t want to tell me, I just was wondering…”

Her voice rang out, clear and sweet as a bell, “Oh! I’m Kore! It was lovely to meet you, Hades!” She opened up her car door with a final wave. Hades stood outside the door, waving like a love-struck fool at Kore as she drove away. Warmth had spread through his core, wrapping around his heart, flushing his cheeks. The cold of the night could no longer touch him. 

Long after the headlights of Kore’s car had faded into the distance, Hades turned and he half-stepped, half-floated through the door to the coffee shop. The small part of him not thinking of Kore was shocked to see Hecate still waiting for him at a table. She met his gaze with cold fire and Hades gulped. He wasn’t at all surprised to see the irritation in her posture, the hurt in her eyes, as she stood, lips pressed tightly together. “Where were you?”

“Hecate, I’m so sorry.”

“You should have texted.” Her brows knit in confusion as she took in his rumpled and stained shirt. “What happened to you?”

“I know.” Hades shifted his weight, struggling to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry, Hecate. You’re my business partner and, more importantly, my friend. I shouldn’t have treated you like that.” He paused, searching her expression. “Please don’t feel pressured to stay, I’m the one who was inconsiderate. We can have our meeting another time.”

The edge of Hecate’s lips twitched upwards. “Damn straight. I was worried about you, you big jerk.” She gestured to the seat opposite hers. “I still want to meet, but I believe I deserve an explanation.” As Hades settled into the wooden chair, Hecate’s face softened. “What happened?”

Hades sighed, closing his eyes tightly. “Minthe finally reached out.”

“Oh.” Hecate reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

He exhaled slowly. **It always took him a few moments to calculate where he stood with Minthe. He could, and often would, spend hours agonizing over their relationship, evaluating each of his missteps, weighing the words they shouted at each other, tallying the times she stormed away, leaving him alone with broken skin and returning to him again the next day in tearful apology. But he wouldn’t. She couldn’t reach him here.** “Yeah. For the most part, anyway.”

“You can always talk to me, Hades. I’m here for you, even and especially when I’m pissed about your timekeeping.” She smiled, her gentle teasing like a salve.

Hades smiled gratefully at his oldest friend. “I’m actually doing okay. Minthe wasn’t the only reason I was late.” He gestured expansively at his shirt, glancing away, hoping Hecate wouldn’t notice could feel the blush creeping into his cheeks and glanced away. “I-I kinda ran into someone.”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah. I wasn’t paying attention and I, um, walked into her and almost knocked her over.” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying and failing to seem casual. “Even though she got the worse end of the spill, Kore offered to replace my shirt. Hecate, she was so kind and gentle: she even tried to dab away the stain.” He smiled slightly. 

“Jesus Christ, Hades,” Hecate muttered. He shot her a look of reproach. “Um. Sorry. You aren’t usually so… rhapsodic when you drink.”

“Well, she was sweetness itself.” Hecate rubbed her temples but nodded for him to continue. “You could just see it in her eyes. They were so big and sad and full of kindness…”

“Okay, you big sap, as much as you may want to talk about this Kore, sober Hades wouldn’t forgive me if we didn’t discuss the business.”

Hades pouted, but pulled out his briefcase. “Fine. But I want to register my disapproval.”

“Duly noted.” Hecate turned her laptop around to face him. “I got the business plan you sent me and I wanted to go over a few things. So you’ve already put an offer in on the old Provazník place?”

“Yes, the location is good, it has a basement, which would be ideal for an preparation room, and enough room to add at least one retort.”

“It’s going to need a lot of renovation.”

Hades nodded, “Which is why the budget looks the way it does. I had an inspector look at the place and the structure is sound, so most of the work we need to do is cosmetic. We won’t make any profits until the second year of business, but we’ll have a fairly small staff, and I plan on doing a lot of the renovations myself.”

Hecate leaned back in her chair. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Well, I’ve already decided on the company name: Elysium Funerary and Memorial Center”

“You know that isn’t what I meant.” Hecate chided softly. “These last few weeks have been hard on you. I just want to make sure you aren’t committing to something you’ll regret.”  
Hades crossed his arms. “Hecate, you of all people should know that I don’t rush into things. I’ve put thought into this. Years, in fact.” 

**It wouldn’t have been an exaggeration to say Hades had been contemplating Elysium for more than a decade. As a child, he had been fascinated with geology: the way simple chemical bonds and the shifting of earth could result in the light that danced and flickered in the heart of precious gems. But when he was ten, a bird hit the glass of his bedroom window—dying instantly—and Hades’ life changed forever. He dug a little grave in the back garden, constructed a roughly-hewn casket out of popsicle sticks, and asked his mother to read the eulogy he had written on notebook paper. After Hades lowered the crude coffin into the flowerbed, he buried his face in Rhea’s shoulder, attempting to muffle his sobs. Rhea stroked his hair and kissed the crown of his head. “I’m so proud of you, my sweet Aidoneus. You made sure that little bird wasn’t alone, even though it was hard, and you cared for him as best you could. Not everyone is brave enough to mourn like you.”**

Hades folded his lanky frame to fit on the bunk bed in Hecate’s freshman dorm. “I’m serious! They’re making all these advancements in the field.” He waved his hands dramatically, launching into a monologue despite Hecate’s skeptical expression. “When you think about funerary science, you probably think of embalming and cremation, right? But one of my professors mentioned that the Mayo Clinic just got a machine that uses a chemical solution to break down bodies in water! It’s like cremation, but better!”

“Oh my god, you fucking nerd.” Hecate groaned, burying her face in a pillow. “This is why my roommate leaves whenever you stop by.”

“So that’s why you ask me to come over so much!” Hades grinned. 

Hecate glowered over the edge of the pillow. **“She’s a lot, okay? She asked me on the first day if I needed help ‘understanding classes,’ and I had to break it to her that I grew up in Seattle, not Korea. She was devastated.”

“Yikes. I assume you’re the first lesbian she’s ever met?”

“Quite probably.” Hecate adjusted her glasses and rubbed her buzzcut. “Seriously, are you at all nervous about,” she leaned in close, whispering conspiratorially, “the bodies?”

“Yeah.” Hades exhaled, gazing off into the distance. “The school gets most of the cadavers from the local hospital. I’m just…” he trailed off, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, before reluctantly meeting Hecate’s eyes. “I’m scared one of the cadavers will be someone I know. It’s bound to happen eventually, but it keeps me up at night.”**

Hecate squeezed his hand gently. “If it makes you feel any better, I know that if they could pick, anyone who knows you would want you to be the one to look after them once they die. You’ll do a great job, Hades, really.”

“Okay, then I’m in.” 

Hades started. He had half-expected to spent the next thirty minutes bickering with Hecate. “Oh! I, um, thought you would have more questions for me?”

“Nah. I looked over your business plan and corrected a few small things, started looking into contractors for the space, and sent out some feelers for potential staff. I just wanted to make sure that you were starting a funeral home because you wanted to, not because you felt you had to.”

Hades smiled, warm affection blooming in his chest for the second time that evening. “I want to. As a wise woman once said, I deserve good things.”

Hecate grinned wickedly. “You know that I’m going to hold you to that, right?”

“We can shake on it, partner.” They shook hands with mock formality. 

“Oh, before I forget! Here, Umma sent this for you.” Hecate reached into her bag and pulled out a glass container absolutely packed with mouth-watering Yukgaejang. “She’s very worried that you aren’t eating enough.”

“Tell her thank you and that I will feast like a king.”

“Yeah, I’m not telling her you said that. Her ego is bad enough as it is.”

The next few days passed without incidence. Hades finally sent an email to the gardener Hecate had been pestering him about and they agreed to meet on Wednesday. He had filed permits with the local office, called around about cremation retorts, and started researching local contractors to help restore the funeral home. 

He was in the middle of a heated call with his bank Wednesday morning while trying to wrangle the pack into their crates. “Yes, I’m sure. Look, I’ve already answered the security questions, right? You know it’s me. Yes, I do want to transfer the money.” Jesus Christ, the gardener would be there in twenty minutes. He filled a Kong with peanut butter and placed it into Big John’s crate. She started licking it happily, slurping with gusto. “I don’t care that it’s unusual for me. If you are unwilling to send the donation, I will cease doing business with you and close out my accounts.”

He heard the sound of the gate creaking open. _Shit, where was Cerberus?_ An unfamiliar boxy car pulled into the drive and Hades felt his stomach drop. Cerberus wasn’t inside, did he run out of the gate? The car parked near the front and as the headlights switched off, Hades caught a blur of motion along the treeline. _Oh fuck me_.

“Fuck!” Hades hung up on the bank, tossing his phone onto the couch in his headlong sprint to the door. His hands shook, struggling with the lock. A high-pitched shriek split the air. Hades finally unlatched the door and flung it open, launching himself toward the front walk. The car’s door hung open, no one was in the front. _Shit. Shit._ Did the gardener run off? Where was— and then he spotted them. A small woman slumped, huddled on the ground, murmuring indistinctly while desperately trying to fend off a drooling Cerberus. Hades felt his blood run cold and he bellowed “CERBERUS. COME. NOW!”

Both the woman and Cerberus jumped in shock, the mastiff cowering behind her, tail drooping.

The woman reached out to gently stroke Cerberus’ head. “It’s okay! It was all my fault. He wasn’t doing anything bad! I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have been wrestling with him. He’s just such a good boy.”

Cerberus thumped his tail, turning the full power of his sad puppy eyes on his master. Hades flushed, out of breath now that the panic had passed, his pulse throbbing with adrenaline. “Oh, I thought. It looked like he was scaring you… Um, sorry. I should have warned you. I-I meant to have him in the house.”

“That’s okay!” The woman stood up, dusting off her knees. Her back was still towards Hades, but he could hear the smile in her voice. “I’m glad I got to meet Cerberus.” There was something about her that reminded him of someone, though as soon as Hades thought he had it, the memory danced teasingly away. She tucked a wayward pink curl behind her ear. “I hope we didn’t scare you too much.” She turned to face him with a wide smile that froze as soon as she met his gaze. A little bit of the warmth drained from her copper-brown skin as she stood, frozen, staring open-mouthed at him.

“Kore?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hades is preparing to meet with Hecate when he gets an email from Minthe. She alerts him (in a subtly cruel way) to a news story implicating him in the crash. Overwhelmed by guilt, Hades drinks and cuddles with his dogs. 
> 
> Deciding not to leave Hecate high and dry, Hades gets a cab to their meeting, where he promptly runs into Persephone. They banter and Hades is overwhelmed by a lot of feelings and his attraction to her. He finally meets with Hecate and they discuss the plans for the funeral home. 
> 
> During the meeting, Hades reflects on the first time he encountered death as a child and a conversation he had with Hecate in his first year in mortuary school. 
> 
> Later that week, Hades is attempting to deal with his bank and crate his dogs in anticipation of a consult with a local gardening company. Unbeknownst to him, Cerberus is wandering around outside and makes a beeline for the gardener when she arrives. Hades has a moment of panic, which isn't relieved much when he realizes that the gardener is someone he's met before. 
> 
> Please let me know if there is a better way to set off potentially triggering sections, I want to make this as accessible as possible. 
> 
> Thank you all for your sweet comments and feedback: you keep me motivated to write this odd little story. :)


	4. Stir a Garden with a Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite hours of rehearsal, Persephone is unprepared to run into Hades again. Especially as a prospective client.
> 
> Title from "The Seed-Shop" by Muriel Stuart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My laptop has emerged triumphant! Thank you for all the well wishes and kindness, but most of all for your patience. Enjoy this fluffy chapter! I don't think any content warnings are necessary, feel free to let me know if they are! :)
> 
> My deepest gratitude to my dear frost giant, who valiantly took my husk of a computer to the repair shop, and helped me massage this story into something approximating human interaction. I love you with all my heart and liver, dearest! :)
> 
> Earlier note: Thanks for all your support and the endless love you've shown this fic! It means so much to me and I'm glad you're enjoying the story. :) Learn from my mistakes and make sure you watch for pets underfoot, waterproof your devices, and invest in a good case for your computer.

Persephone had spent the last few days resisting the urge to call the handsome stranger. In truth, she had been busy: judging from the spike in calls and emails, the library project was just the exposure her business needed. But in the quiet moments of the day, her eyes always seemed to wander over to that dark blue business card wedged in the corner of her mirror and consider dialing up Hades.

She would start with a cool and completely carefree opening: the phone equivalent of “Oh, hi, fancy seeing you here!” While she cooked for herself, she imagined the soft laughter he would exhale into the phone. Then during the course of their conversation she would make Hades laugh at least three times.She brainstormed jokes during her evening shower. He seemed to have a dorky sense of humor, so she while she shaved, Persephone crafted the equivalent of a standup routine of jokes that might make him laugh. Inevitably, this caused her mind to wander to how Hades’ eyes crinkled when he laughed and the way his bright smile and dimples had disarmed her just days ago. Persephone had taken exclusively cold showers all week.

But the problem of her name still remained. _What am I supposed to say? Sorry, you were very handsome and I temporarily forgot my name? Could you call me Persephone, because I have mixed feelings about my name? Please call me Persephone, Kore is the name my mother uses._ Now that she was face to face with Hades, she was once again drawing a blank.

“Kore? Kore, are you okay?”

Despite the hours of preparation she had devoted to this moment, Persephone felt tongue-tied. Hades was standing just feet away from her, his button down slightly rumpled, rolled up sleeves revealing a tantalizing stretch of forearm. Luckily, Cerberus was nudging her insistently for pats, so she at least had a way to occupy her hands. “I-I’m fine!” she squeaked. She cleared her throat and tried again.“H-Hades. Fancy seeing you here.” A heated blush crawl up her neck: his perfect dishevelment felt like a personal attack. He blinked, stammering for a moment, and Persephone let out a shaky breath. 

“Well, this is my house.” Hades spread his arms wide, one corner of his mouth twitching up in a lopsided grin. Persephone noticed his blue eyes were less bloodshot today, but the thin skin around his eyes was stained a deep purple. _He must not be sleeping well._

“Ah, yes. Good.” She nodded seriously in what she hoped was a professional gesture, shaking a few more curls loose from the bun she had spent so much time smoothing into place. Cerberus, emboldened, whined for additional attention and butted his head against Persephone’s thigh, gazing up at her with wide, hopeful brown eyes.

Hades stepped closer, a slight smile dancing in his eyes. “So, I assume you’re working at Asphodelus Landscaping? I meant to ask the other night, but something distracted me.” He tilted his head to the side, glancing down at Cerberus. “Careful, he drools.” Persephone glanced down and, sure enough, a sheen of drool clung to her skirt as if an enormous snail had spent the morning traversing her hip. _So much for looking professional._

Hades noticed the slime and patted his thigh, calling Cerberus to him. Cerberus pretended not to hear and stayed firmly glued to Persephone’s side. “I’m so sorry, Kore. I can get you a cloth to clean up.” Hades pointed at Cerberus, adopting a stern expression. “You, young man, have been terribly impolite to our guest.” The mastiff thumped his tail joyfully.

“Oh! It’s okay, it’ll come out in the wash. And besides,” _Okay Persephone, time to dazzle him with your humor_ , “it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve made a mess of an outfit around you.”

Hades choked. 

It took her a moment, but when her brain caught up to her mouth, Persephone gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Sugar snaps, I didn’t mean—“ 

Hades was staring straight ahead, eyes glazed, mouth slightly agape, and a ruddy blush was slowly spreading across his face. If his frankly ridiculous expression of stunned panic had been caused any other circumstance, Persephone would have doubled over with fitful giggles. Instead, she chewed on her lip, overwhelmed by her own mortification. _Wow, no coming back from this, small-town girl._ She quickly calculated the distance to her car. _If I moved really fast, I could probably get down the drive before he noticed. Then I could pack up all my things, leave town, change my name, and start a new life. That definitely isn’t an overreaction to saying a dirty joke to a prospective client that I’ve been daydreaming about all week._ Cerberus huffed in exasperation at the two humans and trotted over to a sunny spot in the grass, flopping over with another loud snort.

Hades, sensing her discomfort, regained his composure with some difficulty. ““N-No, Kore. I-I apologize, I shouldn’t have made you feel uncomfortable.” He glancing at the ground in front of him, running a hand through his hair, “You caught me by surprise.” 

“Oh! It’s fine, if anything, I should be the one apologizing.” Persephone had never been so grateful that her dark skin hid all but the deepest of blushes. She lowered her eyes to the ground, nervously twisting the strap of her purse. “I’m so sorry, I was nervous and I spoke without thinking. I didn’t intend to embarrass you, but it was really unprofessional of me.” Her gaze flicked back up at him and she smiled hesitantly. “Can we start over?”

“Of course, Kore. You don’t even need to ask.” 

“Thank you.” Persephone breathed in deeply and extended her hand to shake, tilting her head and flashing Hades a winning smile. “Hello, it’s good to finally meet you, Hades.” She desperately wanted to see him laugh. _Carpe diem, Kore_. She looked up at him through her eyelashes. “I must say, you’re even more majestic in person than our email correspondence led me to believe.”

Hades cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, so that’s what you meant by starting over? I’m afraid it will be impossible for me to forget our first meeting.”

“But it was terribly unprofessional!”

Hades smirked. “Why do you think I want to remember it?” Persephone’s stomach fluttered at the gleam in his eye. “Those are my terms, Miss Kore. Take them or leave them.”

Persephone huffed. “I didn’t take you for a scoundrel, Mr. Klymenos.”

“Oh, but I am.” Hades stepped a fraction of an inch closer and gave her what could only be described as a roguish grin. Her outstretched hand was only a few inches from the front of his shirt. Persephone felt a shiver run down her spine and withdrew her hand slightly. “I am nothing if not an unrepentant scoundrel. I apologize if I’ve given you any other impression.”

Persephone tilted her head, gazing up into Hades’ bright eyes. “Oh, I would have described you as more of a rapscallion. Maybe even a ne’er-do-well?”

Hades snorted, raising his eyebrows in mock indignation. “You wound my honor, Miss Kore. I’m definitely at least a knave.”

“Hmm, what is the exchange rate of knave to scoundrel?” Persephone crossed her arms. 

Hades brought a hand to his chin, tapping it thoughtfully. “Probably about 3:1.”

“Ah. Then you’re 30% knave.”

“Jesus, that low?” Hades leaned down, his blue eyes glittering. Persephone felt the breath catch in her throat. “I suppose I need to be more dastardly. I wouldn’t want to leave you with an inaccurate view of me.”

Persephone tilted her head, lifting her chin and smiling triumphantly. “Okay, now it’s 20 percent scoundrel.”

“Much better.” Hades smiled wolfishly and Persephone felt her stomach flutter nervously. Cerberus sneezed. The two humans jumped at the sudden sound and the mood, if it had even existed in the first place, flowed from them like water. Hades leaned back and suddenly the mild summer day felt a little less warm.

“Now that you’re satisfied, may I finish my professional introduction?” Persephone extended her arm once again for a handshake. “I’m the owner and sole employee of Asphodelus Landscaping.” She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “I, uh, actually go by Persephone in professional circumstances. It sounds a little more official than Kore.” _It was the truth. Sort of_. 

Hades grasped her hand and shook it gently. “It’s good to meet you in this professional capacity, Kor-Persephone.” He released her hand, blushed, and reached up to rub the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I’ll call you Persephone from now on. I understand how important a name is and I apologize for calling you the wrong one.”

“Don’t apologize!” She surprised herself with how truly she meant it. “It was a bigger deal to me in college: Persephone sounds more official and looks better on research papers. I use it for business out of habit. Besides,” she looked up at Hades with a soft smile, “I don’t mind when you call me Kore.”

“Are you sure?” He smiled shyly at her. 

“Absolutely.” Hades nodded at her, looking slightly dazed, but the warmth in his eyes made Persephone feel like she were basking in the sun. She beamed up at him. _I like the way my name sounds from your lips._ They gazed at each other for a moment longer than was necessary and she fought the urge to sneak a glance at Hades’ shy smile. Finally, Persephone cleared her throat, glancing away. “Would you mind showing me around the yard? You emailed me the blueprint, but I’d like to get an idea of the space before we start on the design.”

“Of course. Cerberus!” The dog perked up from his spot in the grass. “Let’s give Persephone the tour!” Cerberus leapt up and bounded across the yard, jowls flapping in the wind. After flying past the two humans, the mastiff came to a lumbering halt, peeking over his shoulder to make sure Persephone and Hades were watching him, then sprinted away again with his tail held high. Hades shot her a wry smile, then followed the dog at a brisk walk. Persephone stifled a giggle and jogged to keep up with Hades’ long legs.

Hades’ home stood in stark, concrete defiance of the forest surrounding it. He lived about ten minutes outside Perdition, deep in the pine forest surrounding the town, off of a winding road that seemed designed to spite Persephone’s GPS. Halfway up the winding drive, the trees broke, and the house came into view, perched on a slight hill in a forest clearing. 

Persephone had been struck by the house when she pulled in the drive, but that brief moment of shock was nothing compared to viewing it up close with its owner. Everything about the house was designed to contrast with the landscape: the purposefully imperfect texture of the concrete, the sharp corners, and the wood so varnished it sparkled like glass made the house seem unreal. The biting lines of the house jutted defiantly against the soft green of the undergrowth, but the foreboding structure was dwarfed by the pine trees surrounding it. For all its stubbornly modern architecture, it reminded Persephone of nothing so much as a cave.

She had never been fond of brutalist architecture, but this home tugged at her heartstrings. Something about the way the two stories overlapped, the upper floor jutting away from the core of the house like a limb, a home curled in upon itself, reminded her of a wounded animal. It was a creature of the city, all harsh lines and cruel elegance, that had wandered out into the woods to die. 

Her gaze darted to Hades, who had stilled, staring at his house with a look that stopped Persephone in her tracks. He stared at the house with the disappointment and silent resentment of a prisoner beholding the gallows on the eve of his execution. It was an expression achingly familiar to Persephone. 

His eyebrows were drawn together, his face as still, cold, and resigned to eternal misery as a statue. Persephone wanted to reach out and rest her hand on his arm as she had during their first meeting, but she hesitated.

Instead, she breathed out a sigh. “You have a beautiful home, Hades.” He glanced at her, brow wrinkled in confusion. But the deep sadness was gone from his eyes, so Persephone continued. “I can’t wait to bring your vision to life.”

Hades half-smiled, ducking his head. “Honestly, anything you do would be an improvement.” He gestured towards the house with a bitter laugh. “As you can see, the house is pretty fucking stark.”

Persephone bit her lip, unsure of how to respond, half-choked by the pity welling up in her chest. _He hates his home._ She took a step towards Hades, gently resting a hand on his arm. “It just needs a bit of plants and some love. This is going to sound silly, Hades, but please trust me.” Hades raised an eyebrow, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “I need you to close your eyes and imagine the your ideal version of this house.” Hades shut his eyes so tightly Persephone winced in sympathy. After a few seconds passed, she squeezed his arm. “Could you describe it to me?”

Hades hummed, his posture relaxing slightly. “Full of life. The dogs are running through the yard, sniffing plants, and digging. I’m guessing that’s off limits, though.”

“Not at all! What else do you see?”

“Lots of areas for the dogs to explore, maybe some more shade? I want them to have many places on the property to relax and feel at home. Cerberus especially likes laying in the sun and watching the others play, so maybe an elevated spot or two for him to observe the others?” He chuckled slightly, sneaking a glance at Persephone. “Also, is there any way we could cut down on the amount of mud they track into the house? Of course, I don’t expect you to work miracles, but cleaning every surface multiple times daily gets old more quickly than you’d think.”

Persephone laughed. “I can definitely work with that. What else? What spaces do you enjoy the most?” Hades frowned, closing his eyes again in concentration. Persephone clarified quickly. “It can even be an indoor spot: I can design plantings that look especially nice from certain rooms.” _Maybe the kitchen windows could face some interesting textural greenery or bright, beautiful tropical plants across from the living room that he could enjoy from the couch. Ooh, I could even do a wild, rambling meadow of wildflowers so that every window on the upstairs overlooks vistas of stunning color. Oh my god, the pollination possibilities! Oh my god, what if he says his bedroom. I’ve already embarrassed myself so much today. What are the least suggestive plant names? Nodding Lady’s Tresses? Nope. Jack-in-the-Pulpit—you know, as I’m envisioning it, I know it’s a bad idea. What about a Hesperis matronalis? The purple would look really nice. Surely Hades won’t realize they’re called Dame’s Rocket? Ugh! Why are botanists so fucking horny? Wait, Arum palestinum! Nope. Nope. Why didn’t I include this in my research!_

Hades had remained silent, lost in thought. Finally, he stammered, “U-Um, the pool, I guess.”

Persephone, jerked out of her internal panic, shook her head and peeked around Hades at the pool. It was really nice, sure. The land dipped slightly beneath it, so the far end rose above the ground and, if she wasn’t mistaken, it had one of those fancy infinity edges, but it couldn’t be the only thing Hades could imagine liking. “I can do some plantings around the pool, if you want. Unfortunately, chlorine isn’t exactly the best for aquaculture, so I’m afraid I can’t do much in the pool.” 

Hades snickered and Persephone saw an opening. “But if you like throwing pool parties, I could design an outdoor entertaining space near the pool! I could lay down some pavers, plant a few herbs, maybe do a little cozy lighting, and voila: an entertaining space worthy of a Mediterranean villa. You could have friends and family over to enjoy some drinks and time with the dogs.”

Hades opened his eyes, glancing nervously at Persephone before his gaze rested on the ground. “That sounds like a lovely idea, but I’m sorry to disappoint you. I won’t be entertaining anyone any time soon.” 

“That’s okay!” _Abort! Abort!_ “We’re just brainstorming, none of this is binding.” 

“I guess… herbs sound nice. I’d like to start cooking again.” Hades shifted his weight and smiled at her shyly. “Could you maybe plant some vegetables too?”

Persephone beamed. “How do you feel about fruit trees?”

  
Much to Cerberus’ despair and the delight of the other dogs, Persephone’s pleading prevailed and Hades unleashed the rest of his pack. She spent the next few minutes squealing with delight at the furry tornado engulfing her. All the dogs—except Cordon Bleu, who sat on the couch with an expression of disgust—showered Persephone with slobbery kisses and happy wags. Big John was particularly taken with their guest, trying to fit her bulky body onto Persephone’s lap while the petite woman cackled helplessly. Hades finally put his foot down when Persephone gasped for help because she couldn’t move the Great Pyrenees off of her torso. Dogs would stay outdoors, humans inside. 

The inside of the house was less barren than the outside, but it felt even less like a home to Persephone. The hallway opened up into a combined kitchen and living area. There were no photos on the wall, just sleek picture windows framed by abstract canvases. The walls were dark concrete, but they were more polished than the exterior, and were threaded with veins of some glittering stone. The furniture echoed the hard lines of the architecture, their deep jewel tones contrasting artfully with the glass and sparkling marble of the kitchen. It was like Hades had replicated the glossy pages of a luxury design magazine with exacting attention to detail. It would have been beautiful if it weren’t so sterile. 

Persephone settled her things on the kitchen bar while Hades rummaged in the cupboard. “Sorry, I moved in a few months ago, but I still don’t know where everything is.” She pulled out her laptop, navigated to her landscape design software, and pulled up the specs of the house. Hades grumbled in the kitchen, shoulders deep in the cabinetry. “The house is just the two stories, but the top floor is guest quarters, so I hide all the boxes I haven’t unpacked up there.” He emerged triumphant seconds later, brandished the glasses with a crooked grin. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Oh, yes please! What do you have?” Persephone clambered onto the bar stool with difficulty. _This home was built for tall people._ “It must be nice to have the extra room for the dogs.” 

“I suppose.” Hades opened up his fridge. “I have water, tea, and I think I have a bottle of orange juice somewhere in here.”

“Water is great!” Persephone fished a pen out of her bag and smiled mischievously at her host. “So does each dog have their own room? I imagine Corden Bleu demands his own space.”

Hades paused halfway through pouring a glass of water. “Actually, they usually sleep in my room.”

“Oh.” Persephone worried at her lip, feeling wrong-footed again. “I imagine Cerberus isn’t the best of bedfellows.”

“It’s actually Fudge that you need to watch out for. He’s a sleep runner and his nails are sharp.”

Persephone snorted, covering her mouth with a hand. “You poor man.” 

“It could be much worse, trust me.” Hades passed her a glass of cool water and Persephone smiled up at him before she dismounted from her stool, kneeling to open her bag and grab the navy blue binder she’d spent the last few days preparing. “It’s nice to have the company.” Persephone gripped the binder, lifting with her legs and hefting it in one smooth movement like a shot put, launching it onto the granite countertop with a resounding thud. Hades jumped, eyes wide. “Holy shit! What is that?”

Persephone self-consciously scaled the bar stool. “So I already did a little research on some plants you might like.” She took a sip of water and smiled wide. “Thanks for the water, by the way. It’s perfect.”

“Is all that for me?” Hades stared at the binder, incredulous. Admittedly, it was filled to almost to the point of bursting with color coded tabs, neon post-it flags, and what might have been scrapbook pages that Persephone had pasted together at 2:45 in the morning. 

“Yep! I tried to be reasonably thorough.” She opened up the binder and navigated to the orange ‘Dog Safe’ tab. “Okay, maybe we can start here? I compiled a list of non-toxic plants. I want to make sure there’s nothing that could make the dogs sick in the plantings. I try to work with native plants as much as possible, because, since they’re adapted for this particular ecosystem, they tend to be lower-maintenance and better for wildlife. Other than that, the sky—well, your budget, I guess—is the limit!” She hurried through her prepared speech, pausing for a reply. Hades had leaned against the countertop, eyebrows raised, his wide smile showing off his dimples. Persephone took a steadying sip of her water, gently setting the glass on a coaster. “So, what are you envisioning for the space?”

“I’m still a little in shock from the textbook-sized binder you brought, Kore.” Hades ran a hand through his fair hair, flashing her an even cheekier grin. _Definitely a scoundrel_. “Honestly, I’ll probably be busy with work for the foreseeable future, so I don’t want you to devote hours to a garden that could wither under my nose.”

“Well, luckily for you, you are in the hands of a seasoned professional.” Persephone shot him an impish grin. 

“And what would you suggest?”

“Well, I could install an irrigation system to take care of any plants that need more frequent watering, but again, plant selection will take care of a lot of that.” 

“That sounds excellent.” He took a long drink of his water and Persephone tried very hard not to watch his Adam’s apple bob as he drank. She failed miserably. He set down his glass on a matching coaster, pulled a bar stool across from Persephone, and settled himself down. “I must admit, I’m completely ignorant about botany. I’m probably the type of client you hate: I don’t know much about plants, but I know what I like.”

“Honestly, I prefer that to indecision! If a certain species won’t work, I’ll tell you, but I want this garden to be reflective of your vision.” Persephone moved her laptop to the side to make room for the binder between them. “You mentioned that you wanted the house to feel full of life. I lot of movement can be achieved by just the plants themselves. Just varying the texture, color, and height of the plants will make a garden feel more dynamic. I tend to lean more towards organic shapes because of that: controlled wildness is an easy way to make the plantings flow naturally.” Hades was leaning in, his whole posture radiating rapt attention. Persephone wasn’t used to anyone listening to her with such intensity. “Um, I actually just designed a space for the local library that was designed with pollinators in mind! How would you feel about plants primarily focused on attracting pollinators?” 

She looked nervously at him and he nodded for her to continue. “I could plant species that draw butterflies, bees, wasps, and hummingbirds near your windows, so every view from your house would be buzzing with color, life, and activity.” She paged to a section of the navy binder titled ‘Pollinators??’ and propped up the glossy pages for Hades to see. “It would be really great for the environment and if you are interested in fruit trees, attracting pollinators would be in your best interest.” She flipped to a photo of a bat munching on fruit. “I could even do some research into plant species that draw nocturnal creatures, so your yard would always be teaming with activity.”

Hades leaned in, hesitantly stretching a hand toward the binder. “May I?” Persephone nodded and he lifted it gingerly, studying the pages. She took the opportunity to take another deep drag of water and a quick peek at Hades’ profile. He had unusually features: a strong, narrow chin, long and sharp nose, high, chiseled cheekbones, but his eyes were beautifully expressive, framed by long, delicate blonde lashes, his ears stuck out just enough to soften his harsh features, and his lips were a perfect fullness. _Handsome wasn’t quite the right word to describe him_ , she mused, _elegant was closer, majestic nearer still_. 

“I really like this, Persephone.” She jumped, blushing, and felt a rush of gratitude that she still wasn’t holding her water. She would have soaked them both. Hades didn’t notice, he was too enthralled in flipping through all the tabs in the binder. “I’m glad I listened to Hecate, there’s no way I could have done this myself.”

“You know Hecate?”

His brow furrowed and his gaze flicked to her. “She’s the one that recommended your company. Wait, you know Hecate?!”

“Yeah, she gave a talk about body farms at my college like three years ago. We met when my Honors program treated her and a few of the students to lunch.”

Hades scowled at the ground and Persephone had the distinct impression that he muttered something about “meddling.”

She pursed her lips. “How do you know Hecate?”

“Um, she’s my oldest friend and my business partner.”

“Oh! Can I let you in on a little secret?” Persephone leaned forward, raising her eyebrows. Hades shot her a concerned look and leaned forward. “Her pantsuits are amazing. I think that’s why she’s so cool and intimidating.”

Hades grinned wolfishly before whispering seriously. “She terrifies me.”

Persephone giggled, covering her face with her hands. “Hades, stop sidetracking me, I’m only halfway through my presentation!”

Hades extended the binder with a solemn nod. “By all means, proceed. I’m very interested in the color scheme tab.”


	5. The Safe, Simple House of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As our brilliant duo work together to plan the perfect garden, Hades can't help but be distracted by how much light and warmth Persephone brings to his home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Another fluffy one for you. :) I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Thanks again to my darling partner for being a sounding board for my ideas and helping me set the sad blue boy dial to 11. ;) I love you with all my heart. :)

Hades had never considered himself a lucky man, but as he sat across from a goddess of a woman in his own kitchen, he was beginning to reassess his judgement. Even clouded by the fog of scotch and angst, Kore had struck him as a singular beauty, but his first impression was a pale shade of the woman sitting before him, gesticulating excitedly about pollinators. She positively glowed in the late afternoon sunlight and Hades felt an all-too-familiar twisting in his gut. _This is too good to be true. Did Hecate put Persephone up to this? She did seem genuinely surprised to see me earlier, but maybe Hecate mentioned this was a big account without mentioning my name_. 

“Oh yes! I was hoping to talk about that.” Persephone spread her arms wide with a cheesy smile that, while meant in jest, was bright enough to pierce the rain clouds beginning to form in his mind. “As I’m sure you can tell, I’m very passionate about color coordination.”

Hades exhaled. _I can spent the rest of the evening mulling over this, but I only get so much time with Kore_. “Really? I had no idea.”

“Careful, you’re currently at 35 percent scoundrel.” 

_Play it cool_. Hades nodded seriously, drawing his eyebrows together. “My apologies, Miss Persephone. Please continue.”

Persephone flipped to the section with a smack of pages, smiling beatifically at Hades. He flashed a quick smile in return and leaned over the open pages: four drawings of groups of plants in vivid color splashed across sketch paper, species names dotting the page in a mix of Latin and English, all written in a neat cursive. 

“So, color scheme is fairly straightforward. I sketched out a few sample plantings for you to look at and figure out what you like. All of this is flexible: we’re still in the brainstorming phase, so the drawings are just to give you a general idea of what I can do!”

Hades couldn’t help but draw in a breath, gently reaching out to brush his fingertips against the textured paper, studying the pages intently. The upper left drew his eye first with eye-catching Bur Marigold, _Platanthera ciliaris_ , vivid Flame Acanthus and deep red _Cosmos atrosanguineus_ gently nodding over the bright green foliage, offset by towering spires of Sundial Lupine. She had titled this section _Sunset_ and while the colors were welcoming, between the brightness and the textures of the different plants, Hades felt a little overwhelmed. The next drawing had a less cohesive color scheme: vivid pink roses, Joe Pye Weed, and a magenta yarrow, bright yellow marigolds, and deep golden butterfly weed interspersed with cornflowers and other various hues of blue flowers, soft green leaves of kale and a few vegetables Hades recognized, and purple-green tendrils of _Lablab purpureus_ that seemed to sway in the wind. Above it she had scrawled _Classic Cottage Garden_. She must have spent an entire day researching and sketching this. He felt that she had already done too much for him and she hadn’t even planted a single flower yet. He leaned back, meeting her eyes again. “Kore, these are incredible.” 

She looked down to her hands with a soft smile. Her cheeks darkened slightly, a faint flush of burgundy like the color of the _Cosmos atrosanguineus_ she’d drawn. _Was she blushing? Did I make her blush?_ A pleasant tingle ran along his skin when she glanced up at him through her eyelashes. “Thank you, Hades. It really wasn’t much and I’m certainly no artist, but I thought seeing some examples was more helpful than trying to explain it.”

“No, thank you.” Hades shifted in his seat. “You didn’t need to go to all this trouble for me.” 

“I know, I wanted to. Believe it or not, I’ve been looking forward to this project. Even before I realized I’d be working with you. I have to bring my A-game if I’m going to satisfy a client as picky as Cordon Bleu.” Persephone tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with a grin. It was all Hades could do to not let out a soft sigh, basking in the warmth of her eyes. “Besides, it was a fun excuse to use colored pencils.” 

Hades returned her warmth with a radiant smile. “Why do I get the feeling that you’d take any excuse to whip out art supplies, Miss Persephone?”

“Did you infer that from the everything about me, Mr. Klymenos?” She arched her brow with wry grin, “you’re now at 40 percent, in case you were wondering.”

Hades cleared his throat, glancing down at the page, trying to ignore the heat in his ears. “The other examples are beautiful, but I think I like this one the most.” He reverently traced the name _City at Night_.

Persephone leaned over the paper. “What about this color scheme in particular draws you in?” The curl she had just secured slipped from behind her ear and Hades tore his gaze away with an effort.

“Well,” he exhaled slowly, gaze flickering over the motley assortment of blues, purples, deep crimsons, splashes of orange, and the fleeting glimpses of white. “The colors are very soothing and evocative.” He snuck a quick glance at Persephone, who was looking at him with a soft, eager smile, before continuing in a lower tone. “It feels like I’m eight years old again, sitting on a hillside at dusk, looking at all the houselights and streetlights as the stars come out. The other ones are more flashy, but this scheme feels comfortable.”

Persephone clapped, gracing him with a glowing smile. “Yes! That’s even better than what I was trying to express.” She wiggled happily in her seat and Hades felt yet another warm rush of affection for her. “I’m so glad you liked that one: it’s the most unique of the schemes I sketched and would suit the space really well. Now that we have a jumping off point, I can start to build a custom palette for you.”

“Honestly, this one is perfect. Maybe we can change some of the plants, switch up the design a bit from area to area, but this feels right.” He shifted nervously in his chair. “I can almost envision it. It feels like home.” 

Persephone hummed, tilting her head slightly. “I can definitely do that! I know I’ve said it a few times already, but I want this garden to make your home feel full of life and happiness. You may think it’s cheesy, but a garden should always bring you comfort and a sense of joy. Sometimes a garden is the only green and growing thing you have.” She smiled widely and looked down at the binder, absently flipping though the pages, but Hades, having had acquired an eye for reading subtle expressions from his years in the courtroom, caught a flicker of sadness in the almost imperceptible slant of her brows and the way her eyes seemed to see past him. _She’s lonely. Could Kore—with all her warmth, eagerness, and passion—be just as sad and as lonely as I am?_ Now, in the stillness of the moment, he desperately wanted to make her laugh, to ease the tension around her eyes.

“Is that your motto?”

“That? Oh no, it’s far too depressing to put on a business card.” Persephone shot him a slight grin and, as quickly as it had appeared, her somber expression melted beneath her skin like the prow of a ship beneath still waters. The impression of melancholy would remain with him, like the faint scent of her botanical perfume, long after she had left. “I opted instead for a drawing of an Asphodelus plant.”

Hades smirked. “So you abandoned a catchy slogan to reinforce the death theming?” 

Persephone gasped in mock outrage and crossed her arms. “Mr. Klymenos, I will not be shamed for my branding choices. Especially by someone who reached out to me with such an interesting email address.” Persephone pulled her computer closer: her gentle tapping the sound of impending doom. She looked at him with a sly expression, her full lips pressed together in the most perfect and pouty smirk Hades had ever seen, a teasing glint in her eye that promised to be his undoing. Hades instantly stiffened, a hot blush spreading across his cheeks and down his neck. “I can only assume that khaos@elysiummemorial.com is your professional email address?”

“Those are my initials, Miss Kore.” _Not technically untrue_. He had discovered that a slight modification of H. A. Klymenos was the perfect Friendster screen name at 17 and had used khaos as an email handle ever since.

“Hmm, I’m not buying that. Lying to your gardener would elevate you to 47.5 percent scoundrel.”

“Fine.” He rested his palms heavily on the marble countertop in an attitude of defeat. “Am I not permitted to have an edgy phase?”

Persephone bit her lip to stifle a laugh and nodded seriously. “I’m pretty sure that’s an inalienable human right. At least, I would hope it is.”

“Oh, does this mean that my accuser also had an edgy phase?” 

She was laughing now, one hand covering her mouth in a vain attempt to smother her giggles. _Fuck, she’s bewitching_. “I might have been a little goth…maybe.” Hades snorted. “In my defense,” she paused, catching her breath. “the _Twilight_ movie came out in the same three month period I discovered Mary Shelley, so I was powerless to resist.”

Hades erupted into peals of laughter and Persephone collapsed once more into fits of giggles, her whole body shaking. “That wasn’t even the worst of it.” Persephone clutched her stomach, struggling to catch her breath. “I nearly bankrupted myself on eyeliner and Within Temptation albums.”

Hades wheezed, wiping his eyes. “Oh my god, you poor creature.”

Persephone grinned at him, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Don’t pity me too much: I’ll have you know I was a very cute goth. I rocked my fishnets and all black wardrobe even in college.” 

“I can imagine.” And he could. Vividly: Persephone’s wild pink curls braided and twisted into mohawk, razor-sharp eyeliner, fishnet stockings, black lace, and a copious amount of cleavage… Hades blushed, uncomfortably aware that his face wasn’t the only place blood was currently rushing. 

Persephone fanned herself and sighed. “Oof, I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time. Mind if I help myself to some more water?”

“Of course!” He may have said that a little too hastily, but Persephone didn’t seem to notice as she hopped off her stool and sauntered over to the sink. While her back was turned, Hades took a moment to adjust himself, staring intently at the open page of the binder and trying very hard not to think about the beautiful woman in front of him. “I, um, really like this plant. Do you think you could incorporate it somewhere?”

Persephone strolled over, taking a sip of water while studying the photo Hades pointed to. “Oh, that’s _Achillea millefolium_ , it’s a Yarrow plant. That specific variety is called ‘Rosa Maria.’” She set her glass down on a coaster. “Yarrow can cause vomiting and diarrhea in large quantities, but you have enough small dogs I’m not sure you’d want to risk it.”

“Oh.” 

“There are a few varieties of Hibiscus that are the same color and I’m sure I could find an Aster with similar texture, if that’s what you like. Actually—” she paused, bending over the binder, quickly flipping through the pages, tongue slightly sticking out with concentration. The delicate silver necklace she wore dangled prettily off her neck and if he looked, Hades was sure he could glimpse the swell of her breasts past the collar of her crisp button-down. This was not the distraction Hades had in mind. 

“Aha! Found it!” She gestured triumphantly to a flowering shrub. “This is a Crape Myrtle. It’s not a native, but it grows really well here. With just a little bit of careful pruning, you can shape it into an absolutely gorgeous tree.” Persephone glanced at him. “It’s not as much of a draw to pollinators, but it would give you shade and a pop of color. And its seeds are a good source of food for birds in the winter.” She chewed on her lip ponderously. “There are a few varieties that are a magenta like the ‘Rosa Maria,’ although a white or deep purple might suit the color scheme more naturally.”

“I-I like the pink,” Hades confessed, trying to look everywhere but the bright, stubborn curls of the woman before him. “It brightens the place up. And besides,” he shot a smoldering glance at Persephone, hastily drawing the conversation away from his little admission, “isn’t gardening all about contrasts? I seem to remember a consummate professional mentioning something about flow and dynamics in our earlier conversation.”

Persephone laughed softly, more an exhale or huff of air than a proper laugh. She held up her hands in surrender. “I wasn’t trying to dissuade you from magenta! I tend to go a little overboard with pink, as I’m sure you have already surmised.” And then, like a dagger through his heart, she winked at him. Well, more accurately, she tried to wink, but her eye performed the ocular equivalent of a train wreck and the whole thing somehow ended up as the most lopsided blink Hades had ever witnessed. Blushing fiercely, the diminutive gardener hid her face. Hades couldn’t help but stifle a snort.

“60 percent scoundrel!” she squeaked.

“What? I did nothing!”

“You cross-examined me and threw off my groove!”

“Well,” Hades leaned in conspiratorially and grinned wolfishly, “I was a lawyer. Old habits die hard, Miss Persephone.”

“70 percent!” Hades opened his mouth to reply and she peeked from between her fingers with a scowl, “I can keep going, Hades. Though I’ll have you know I can’t work with anyone with a scoundrel percentage over 85.” Hades shut his mouth with a click, trying desperately to school his expression into less of a shit-eating grin. He failed miserably.

Persephone smoothed her hair, taking a small sip of water before resuming. “So, I’d really like to discuss the texture and flow of the plantings, but I’d like to get a more firm idea of your budget.” She flipped to a section labeled ‘Budget Options’ and—appropriately enough—color-coded green. “In your emails, you weren’t terribly specific as to what price range you wanted to stay within, so I prepared a few sample itemized lists for you.” She gestured at the page and Hades noted that, once again, she had come over-prepared. “I can work within almost any budget, as you can see, but there are some things like irrigation and some more labor- and time-intensive landscaping that might be out of reach if you’re looking for a lower-cost option.” 

Hades skimmed the lists, eyebrows furrowed. Admittedly, he didn’t know much about landscaping, but the prices seemed very reasonable. Especially compared to what he had paid five years ago in DC. “I hope you haven’t included an acquaintance discount,” he quipped, flipping the page and studying the itemized list. “These labor costs, especially for—” he squinted, “um, fountain design and assembly aren’t quite what I expected.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t! But I’m happy to set up an installment plan, if you need me to.” _Oh shit. Now she thinks I’m a miser_. “And especially if you need a budget option, I can do all the work myself so the labor costs aren’t as high. It will probably take me longer to get things done, but I really strive to make my business flexible for your needs. I think everyone deserves a beautiful garden.”

“Oh, um, don’t worry. I wasn’t angling for a discount. Money is no problem.” _And now she thinks you’re a rich asshole. Nice going_. “I just, uh…” He ran his fingers through his hair, desperately trying to avoid her quizzical gaze. “You’ve already spent so much time on this project and I’m not even officially a client! I don’t want to monopolize your time.” The admission stung a little. 

“Hades, I want to be here. I want to work on this project.” She gently rested her small hand on his arm in an echo of when they first met. His eyes were drawn to hers like a moth to flame. “It’s an interesting and exciting idea and I’m really excited to flex my green thumbs.” She wiggled her thumbs and Hades couldn’t help but chuckle. “Besides, I like spending time with you. I’ve enjoyed barging into your home, talking about plants, and playing with your dogs.” She arched an eyebrow and her lips parted in a soft smile. “Getting paid for it is just the icing on the cake.”

Hades felt a warm flush spreading across his skin. _I would pay you a salary to barge in on every single aspect of my life._ “G-great. I, um, I guess we can talk about the texture and flow now?” Persephone laughed, scrunching her eyes and squeezing his arm. He drew in a breath, focusing all his attention on remembering this moment. Being near her was lying in a field at daybreak and no matter what storms the day might bring, he would always have the memory of a perfect, heartrendingly beautiful dawn. 

She stayed for another few hours and Hades ended up rummaging in drawers for extra paper for her to sketch her ideas. The decided on three main plantings, one curving along the front of the house and terminating at the pool that would contain ornamental and edible plants, another outside his bedroom window with a more architectural design, and a grove of fruit trees. Persephone would also add some ferns and wildflowers to the tree line to tie everything together and a mulch to the muddiest parts of the yard. 

Hades relented on the dogs after the first hour and the furry tempest fawned over Persephone in a frankly undignified fashion. Luckily, he didn’t have to pry Big John off of Persephone’s solar plexus, but Russell refused to budge from her lap. Hades felt a little embarrassed that his dogs were nearly as taken with the gardener as their master. But watching her coo over his pets, rubbing their ears, and being very careful to remember all their names warmed Hades’ heart in a way he was afraid to confess. 

Finally, they had finished discussing the plans and it felt like the temperature in the house had dropped by five degrees. It was almost evening and, though the light was growing dim, Hades could have sworn that the house was less bright than it had been ten minutes earlier. _I’ve already imposed so much on her time. Surely she has better things to do than cater to the whims of a lonely man and his dogs_. 

Hades stood in the kitchen, attempting to seem nonchalant in the way he leaned against the countertop and ruffled the soft fur on Cerberus’ head. Cerberus felt no obligation to hide his feelings at Persephone’s departure and was gazing at her with the most pathetic brown puppy eyes, drooling sorrowfully. 

Persephone turned back to the counter and packed away her laptop and took one last sip of water before shouldering her bag. “So I’ll work on a mock-up of the design: I have a really cool software that will generate a preview of what the garden will look like with a few angles. I can send you a digital preliminary plan, and once you approve it, I’ll send you the paperwork and we can get started.” She giggled and knelt to pat Cerberus’ head. Her fingertips almost brushed against Hades’ and he had to resist the urge to shiver. “Be good for your dad, okay? I know, you are the goodest boy.”

“He literally assaulted you with drool within five seconds of meeting you.”

Persephone gasped and covered Cerberus’ ears. “Hades, how can you be so cruel to your son!” She leaned in close to the mastiff and murmured in a conspiratorial whisper, “Don’t listen to him, sweet boy. You are the best.” 

Cerberus thumped happily and shot Hades a knowing look. She likes me better, old man. Hades refused to be jealous of his dog, but this was testing his willpower. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the brick-like binder sitting impudently on his sleek marble counter. “Um, Kore, I think you forgot something.”

She straightened up with a look of alarm, but when she noticed the binder, she relaxed. “Oh, no, it’s for you!”

“But you put so much work into it. Please take it with you, I live with a pack of wild animals and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to the master plan.”

Persephone grinned up at him cheekily. “No, Hades, I made that for you. It’s very sweet that you think that’s the master binder, though. I have a folder on my computer and two binders at home for this project.” She pushed it towards him insistently. Hades felt a warm glow settle in his core. _Kore made something just for me_. He could imagine her hunched over the papers, drawing with the same adorable furrow-browed look of concentration he had grown so fond of. _She didn’t know it was you, though. Persephone would do that for any client. She really cares about people. That’s who she is. You’re just so desperate for any positive interaction that you’re willfully mistaking her friendliness and excitement for interest_. 

“Hey, you okay?” Persephone looked up at him through her eyelashes, eyes wide and full of concern. She glanced at her watch. “Oh, shit. It’s almost dinnertime! You must be starving. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you too late. The whole world fades away a little when I’m in plant mode.” She chuckled awkwardly, shifting the weight of her bag.

“No! I mean, it isn’t that.” Hades ran a hand through his hair, desperately trying to find a way to explain his apparently palpable malaise. “I, uh, was wondering what to do if I find a plant I like. In the binder. The binder you’re leaving with me.” 

“Oh!” Persephone relaxed a little, the edges of her smile quirking up just a little. “I mean, you can always email me… Oh!” She fished around in her bag and pulled out a business card card with a flourish. She made as if to hand it to Hades, squealed, “Oops!” and set the card on the counter, rummaging in her bag before triumphantly brandishing a pen. She hunched over the paper, scribbling for a few moments before extending the card to Hades. “There. That’s the correct version.”

Hades took the card gingerly, cradling it in both hands, squinting to make it out without his glasses. The paper was a creamy card stock emblazoned with Asphodelus Landscaping in an elegant font, cradled by what looked like a hand-drawn sketch of a spiky plant he assumed was an Asphodel flower. Beneath that was written asphodeluslandscape@gaiamail.com and _Persephone De Metre_ in a demure italic font. For Hades, however, she had crossed out ‘Persephone’ and written in ‘Kore’ with a smiley face, along with her phone number. 

The warm feeling in his chest bubbled over. Even his fingers and toes were buzzing with tingling heat. _Did she just give me her number? With an emoticon?!_ He glanced up at her, trying not to betray his wild joy and thrumming sense of anxiety with a shocked expression. Persephone was smiling, her expression so soft and teasing that it sent a fresh jolt to Hades’ already jangling nerves. “For all your urgent plant-related queries, just send me a text.” She looked down at Cerberus. “Though I must warn you, I have a very weird texting plan. My carrier requires one dog photo per text.”

Hades snorted a laugh. “How fortunate, then, that I have so many photogenic dogs.”

Persephone gave a half-suppressed laugh, then smiled up at Hades. They both stood there, smiling at each other silently for a few moments, and Hades could have sworn some kind of unspoken thing passed between them, but it was probably just the aftershocks of his elation. A beat passed and Kore put a hand on the strap of her messenger bag. “I should probably be going.”

“Okay.” Hades and Cerberus escorted her to the door: the man flipping on the front light, the dog panting happily and trotting out to Persephone’s car beside the petite gardener. Hades watched the pair from the porch, calling the mastiff back to the house as Kore climbed into her car. She switched on her lights, backed up, and rolled down her window to give Hades a final wave before pulling out of the drive. Like he had on the first night they met, Hades stood in a pool of light, waving at the crimson of Kore’s taillights as they faded into the night. 

He breathed out a harsh sigh, looking down at the business card he still held in his hand. “I’m really fucked, aren’t I, boy?”

Cerberus wagged in assent. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters will be less fluffy, but these two dorks are refusing to do anything but flirt and, quite frankly, we could all use some sweetness in these trying times. :)


	6. What is Planted is What Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone begins the project only to be met by unforeseen obstacles, both botanical and emotional.
> 
> Title from the amazing poem "The Fact of the Garden" by Minnie Bruce Pratt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Thank you for your patience, this is a long one. I think it's fair to assume that I'll update every week and a half or so, unless I magically become able to write chapters that are less than two thousand words. Please note the new tags, because there might be a new trigger in this work for some of you: a controlling parental relationship. I'll set off any potentially triggering sections with my customary "**" and provide a summary at the end of the chapter. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!

The past two weeks had been a whirlwind of activity for Persephone and quite frankly, she could use a break. After the consultation, she stayed up until two working on the concept. After a few days of back and forth, they had finalized a design. Hades had proved surprisingly resistant to some of the deep crimson plants she had pitched, so for the most part, the garden would be shades of green, every hue of blue, some warm yellows to evoke house lights, deep purples, and a striking number of pink plants. They also decided on the Hyacinth bean—a name that irked Persephone, because it was decidedly not a _Hyacinthus_ , but lablab-bean was less catchy even if it was more correct—and a few white species of _Zephyranthes_ because of the way Hades’ face lit up when Persephone mentioned they would look a little like stars.

Perhaps most shocking of all was how taken Hades was with the varieties of cornflower she had shown him. She was trying to draw up a plant list with the stock at a few nurseries within 50 miles and made what in hindsight, was a teeny mistake. She texted Hades a few different photos of the stock at Gerovit’s Garden Center and asked him what he liked best. He replied almost immediately and attached a picture of Russell and Big John playing tug of war. Well, the corgi was playing tug; Big John was sprawled out on the highly-polished floor, clearly enjoying herself.

Hades: Those are beautiful. Think they would go well in front garden. Could they work for the night garden too? 

Persephone smiled, typing a response. After Hades mentioned that his bedroom window was circular, Persephone had the idea for a midnight-themed planting, primarily using plants that would draw moths and deep blues and the brilliant white of _Zephyranthes atamasca_ to mimic stars. Persephone had taken to thinking of it as a ‘Moon Garden’ and it warmed her heart how very taken Hades seemed with the idea. The _Centaurea cyanus_ would fit in beautifully. Before she could reply, her phone pinged with another message from Hades and a picture of Cerberus sleeping with his tongue out. 

Hades: Really like the ones from pictures two and three. Could you maybe take a picture to scale? Not sure how small ‘Dwarf Blue Midget’ is.

Almost instantaneously, she got another dog photo of Cordon Bleu perched on the back of Hades’ leather couch with an unamused look. 

Hades: Sorry. Felt real gross just typing that. Needs a better name. 

Persephone snorted involuntarily and waved sheepishly at a few other patrons who glanced her way. She picked up the plants, taking selfies with each of them and sending the photos to Hades before she thought better of it. 

Persephone: Here you go! Oh sweet summer child, you have no idea. Plant names can be the worst. 😖

On impulse, Persephone grabbed a small pot of the ‘Blue Boy’ variety of _Centaurea cyanus_ as well as the houseplants she had planned to purchase. She drove home, repotted and watered in her newest, very parched, babies, and was beginning to chop some mushrooms for dinner when she saw the response from Hades. 

Hades: Stunning. Both are perfect, can you include them in the plan? :-)

Persephone almost dropped her phone at the picture Hades attached. It was a selfie of J. P. resting his greying muzzle on Hades’ shoulder with his eyes closed and a contented expression. What made her heart skip a beat, though, was the soft smile on Hades’ face. She bit her lip and responded. 

Persephone: Certainly. Give all the dogs hugs from me! 😄

On Wednesday evening, exactly one week and four hours after she had pulled into the long, unpaved road that led to Hades’ home, not knowing what waited for her at the end, Persephone stopped by to drop off some of her larger equipment. The rest of her supplies would fit fairly easily in her small car, but she wanted to be ready to start first thing on Thursday. Of course, the little vase of bright blue flowers in her cupholder was also a slight incentive to visit. 

She was greeted, as was becoming routine, by an excited Cerberus. As soon as Persephone parked, Hades would let the mastiff outside and Cerberus would charge, tank-like, to the door of the boxy car and sit, panting eagerly. Persephone initiated their little ritual by opening her door a crack and Cerberus immediately stepped back so she could open the door all the way, his whole body shaking with anticipation of pets. Persephone stepped out of the car, sure to plant her feet for anticipation of the mastiff’s favorite part. After hopping around her for a few seconds, Cerberus leaned the full force of his weight against her, shaking them both with the force of his happy wagging. Persephone then leaned over him, stroked his silky fur, and wrapped her arms around him in a big hug, which Cerberus repaid with drooly kisses. 

“Who’s a good boy?” Persephone cooed, scratching Cerberus’ head. 

“He certainly isn’t.” Hades leaned against his door frame, regarding the scene with a slight smile. “Someone managed to steal the zucchini bread I was cooling on the countertop.”

Persephone laughed, shaking her head. “Ugh, when will Cordon Bleu stop his reign of terror.”

“Mhmm. And I suppose Cordon Bleu learned how to fake drool smears on the countertop and bar stools?”

“Your honor, my client was framed.” Cerberus belched agreeably and Persephone giggled. “Or was very, very hungry and committed a crime of passion.”

Hades snorted. “Very clever, but this was definitely a premeditated crime.” Cerberus whined for more pets, casting a sorrowful look to Hades. “Your client’s own testimony is damning evidence of mens rea, Counselor De Metre.” 

Persephone grinned at Hades and, with a gentle nudge to move Cerberus, opened the trunk of her car. Cerberus walked a few steps away and laid down with a huff. “Thanks for letting me bring these by, Hades.”

“Of course.” Hades walked toward the car, shoes crunching on the gravel drive. He was dressed today in what Persephone realized was his customary dark slacks and a dress shirt, but today his sported suspenders and a slightly loosened tie. “Please, let me help you.”

Persephone protested and he held up a hand. “Miss Persephone, you are the one doing me a service, especially with all the time that you’ve already put into this project that I seriously doubt was included in the labor costs you quoted me.”

“Well, that was brainstorming. I’m not going to charge you for that!” She crossed her arms. “And you’re hardly dressed for moving gardening equipment, Hades.”

Hades quirked the corner of his mouth. “I was a lawyer, Persephone. Billing people for brainstorming is a perfectly sound business model.” He reached into her trunk, hefting out first the hoe, then shovel, and finally gigantic shears. “Your time is valuable, Miss De Metre. I intend to pay you for it.”

Persephone knew it was a compliment, but something inside her withered just a bit at the words. She couldn’t help but feel the clinical, professional sentiment was an attempt to kindly let her down. _Does he think I’m only here to render services? Have all these questions just been his professional curiosity? Maybe I’ve been reading too much into this. Or, worse, I’ve been painfully obvious and made him uncomfortable._ She bit her lip, reaching in to grab the handles of her wheelbarrow. “T-Thanks. Um, where would you like me to put all this stuff?”

“The front porch is fine.” Hades began to walk towards the concrete walkway, Persephone trailing behind, her wheelbarrow skittering on the loose stones. She parked the wheelbarrow beside the tools, which Hades was painstakingly arranging. Persephone darted off back to the car, trying to hide her embarrassment from Hades. _Who were you fooling besides yourself, small town girl? His whole job was reading people, I’m sure he clocked your school-girl crush instantly. You’re barging into his home, bringing him flowers, and meanwhile he’s trying to gracefully and maturely let you down._ She reached for her pruning saw and rake, and decided to come back for the chainsaw. _Thank god he hadn’t seen the flowers._

“Is that everything?” Hades was walking toward her with a smile, rubbing his hands together to shake off the dust. “Is there anything in the front I should grab?”

 _Fuck!_ Persephone tried to lunge forward, blocking his view, but she was too short and too slow. Instead, she sort of clattered the rake and saw together in an approximation of a gardening-based folk dance. Hades glanced at her with concern. “Are you okay? Did you trip?”

“Heh, yep. I should have been watching where I was going.” _I guess it’s better that he thinks I’m clumsy and incapable of walking than seeing that I brought him a gift_.

“Don’t apologize, I’ve almost twisted my ankle a few times chasing after the dogs. The rocks are treacherous and I’ve been thinking about replacing them.” He smiled and Persephone breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis averted. He turned to call Cerberus when he froze, turning slowly to look in the window. “Wait, are those cornflowers?”

If Persephone’s arms hadn’t been weighed down with an assortment of sharp objects, she would have waved her fist to the sky and shouted angry tirades to Fate or whatever petty deity seemed determined to humiliate her. _Fortune, you cruel and heartless bitch. Why can’t I have one win?_ Instead, she coughed in a way she hoped was nonchalant, but enough to distract the handsome man peering quizzically through her passenger mirror. “Uh, yeah. Well spotted.”

Hades smiled slightly, though his overall expression remained one of discomposed confusion. _He looks a little like a bald eagle viewed straight on. His hair even looks a bit like rumpled feathers_ , her mind added unhelpfully. They stood, looking at each other for a beat and Hades’ eyes opened wide, a deep blush spreading across his chiseled cheekbones. “Oh. Oh! Ah, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you, Persephone. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that.” He forced a laugh and Persephone detected a hint of bitterness in the downward slant of his thick eyebrows. “I assumed. My mistake. I won’t impose on your time, you doubtlessly have a place to be this evening.”

“Huh?” Persephone pursed her lips, tilting her head. “I, um, I brought those for you.” She gestured as best she could with arms laden with gardening implements. “You really seemed taken by the cornflower photos I sent you and I figured it might be nice to have an idea of what they would look like in your home.” She looked at the ground, trying to fight the tightness in her chest. _Hell, it’s like you’re eighteen again, Kore, scribbling hearts and flowers in the margins of your notebooks_. “Sorry, it was a silly idea.” She started to walk towards the front porch, her arms feeling almost as leaden as the bands of anxiety tightening around her chest. “And terribly unprofessional! I’ll just, uh, leave these and then I can be out of your—“

She was halted by a gentle touch on her shoulder. A shuddering inhale, quick glance down at his warm, large hand hovering just inches above her shoulder, and Persephone’s gaze darted up to meet Hades. He was close enough that she could almost smell the crisp and slightly smoky smell of his neatly pressed shirt. “Kore?” His expression was soft and he was leaning down just a little. _Has he been calling my name? When did he get so close?_ “Please, don’t apologize. I’m genuinely touched.” He smiled slightly, exhaling a soft laugh. “Sorry for ruining the surprise.”

“Oh.” She stood, staring at him, her lips slightly parted. _You look like a fish, Kore-Cob. Try to be less vacant._ She closed her mouth with a slight click. “No worries! They just made me think of you. Uh, your garden, I mean.” She shifted the weight of the rake and saw. “Do you mind if I set these down?”

“Shit! Yeah, of course.” There was that infuriatingly sweet blush, so out of place on such an imposing man. But again, this was a man who adopted seemingly every dog he ever met. 

Persephone squatted, setting down her burden carefully. She popped back up to a standing position, rubbing her hands against her jeans. “Well, we probably should put those ‘Blue Boy’s in water.”

Hades flushed an even deeper red. “I, um, I’m not sure that I have a vase.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, you can just stick them in anything that holds water.” She opened the door, bending across the passenger seat to grab the bushel of bright blue flowers. Persephone straightened up carefully, balancing the cup so it wouldn’t slosh, and closed the door with a bump from her hip. Hades was approximately the color of a beet, his eyes fixed on the ground. She smiled teasingly and flicked an eyebrow, “It’s like you’ve never been given flowers before, Mr. Klymenos.”

“I-I haven’t.” If she hadn’t been paying attention she would have missed his soft mumble, but it cut through her heart like a machete through undergrowth. 

“Oh, Hades.” She extended the flowers—which enveloped the plastic restaurant cup she crammed them into like an explosion of blue—towards the client she definitely had a massive crush on. “Well, now you have.” Persephone tried to pour all her warmth into one bright smile. “And, of course, once I finish this garden, you’ll have flowers every day.”

  
If she had been zealous before, Persephone tackled this project with a fire and righteous fervor that would put most leaders of men and saints to shame. She was a woman of deep convictions and, while it often took her days and weeks of careful rumination, once she had reached a judgement it burrowed deep into her marrow. And she had decided that Hades deserved flowers in abundance. He gathered strays and unloved creatures to him and showered them with kindness, even while he hid away from the world. Persephone was intrigued by his contradictions: the sharpness betrayed by his quick wit, bitter laughter, and the palpable sense of sadness he radiated, made only starker by the softness of his shy smile, endless love for his dogs, and the tender regard in the way he talked about Hecate. 

Persephone knew she had fallen hard for Hades and that her feelings were certainly unreciprocated, but what better way to work through her emotions than with heavy equipment? It had been a few years, admittedly, since she had used a utility tractor, but it was like riding a bike: a very high-power bike with an excavator attachment. She had planned on spending the first few days digging the areas she would turn into the larger beds, pulling up the grass along what would be a dry stream bed, and mapping out an elevated area for Cerberus. These were all straightforward tasks and Persephone was looking forward to a week of hard work and irrigation. 

But, of course, nothing in the course of the gardening business could run smooth. She decided to lay colored flags along the areas she’d be working on, and as she trudged around the edge of the house, she spied a few unassuming palm plants scattered across the property. Curious, she did a quick Oracle search and recognized an old nemesis: _Cycas revoluta_.

Her grudge against the family Cycad began at the tender age of fifteen. Her mother had drafted her into her team of students to do the field work for her experiments. Cybele De Meter wasn’t a fan of getting her hands dirty, so she usually sent undergrads to collect specimens. Unfortunately for Persephone, she was in the group that had to take samples of a sago palm’s root system. It wasn’t the worst summer job her mother had given her, but wrestling with such a spiny, stubborn, and sharp plant was certainly one of the more memorable. After the long hours of digging and days of hand cramps that followed, she understood how Cycads outlasted the dinosaurs. 

And now she had to dig up four of them by herself. She couldn’t even distract herself by watching the dogs. Sago palms, in addition to being cruel little bastards that are inexplicably popular in landscaping, are incredibly poisonous. Persephone wasn’t sure how she missed them when she first toured the property, but on her first day of work, she realized her mistake and sprinted across the yard to burst through the french doors into Hades’ kitchen. She may have overreacted a little. 

“Hades!” She panted, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “The dogs!”

Hades had frozen over the mixing bowl, his hand mixer still whirring away, staring open-mouthed at her over the rim of his glasses. “Uh, good morning, Miss Persephone. It’s 6:30 am, I didn’t expect you so early.” He turned off the mixer and closed the carton of eggs with another quizzical glance at the gardener. “Would you like some breakfast?”

Persephone shook her head, gasping for air. “No time for niceties, you have an extremely poisonous plant on the grounds.” She brushed her errant curls back into her wild ponytail. “I’m so, so sorry, Hades. I thought it was another plant until I oracled. I can’t stress this enough: the dogs have to stay inside. You have a few female plants and ingesting just a few seeds could kill them.” She breathed in deeply, trying to control the guilt pooling in her gut. “I’ll make their removal my number one priority.”

Hades visibly paled. “Fuck. Can you show me?” She led him on a brief tour of the property, paying special attention to the female plants with added reference photos of what to look out for. Luckily, they still had a month or two before the pollination season, but Persephone was determined to remove them immediately. 

She had spent an entire day cutting off their spiny fronds and many more nursing the cuts along her forearms. Sago palms are particularly difficult to remove because, like the palms they are so often confused with, their stalks grow deep into the earth. She had to sever the root system adequately and remove all the little bulbs growing in a several-foot diameter from the plant before she could use the tractor to pull out the plant. Persephone kept reminding herself that this plant had just adapted remarkably well to difficult conditions, but a stubborn part of her felt that this was a personal offense. She had spent almost a week and only removed three of the plants. 

And, as if to add insult to injury—well, more like the emotional whiplash and aching muscles of the past two weeks—it was 10 am on a Wednesday, she had just sat down, grabbed a candy bar, and started scrolling through her phone before the screen went dark and the phone buzzed. Her mother was calling. Persephone heaved a sigh, set her half-eaten snack on her cooler, and took a sip of water before answering. “Hey Mama, I’m kind of busy right now, can I call you back?”

**“Don’t let me inconvenience you: I just wanted to check on you, Kore-Cob. I know adjusting to life outside of college can be difficult. Especially given your… circumstances.” _Oh great. It’s going to be one of these conversations_.

Persephone picked up her shovel and got back to work on the sago. _No rest for the wicked, I guess._ “I’m doing fine.” Persephone glanced at the mirror-like windows facing her, hoping against hope Hades, or quite frankly anything, would interrupt this call before her mother got started. “I know I should have reached out, I’ve just been really busy.” 

“I understand, sweetheart. I just wish you would respond to my texts.” Persephone bit back a frustrated groan, hopping on the edge of her shovel to drive it deeper into the yielding earth. “I’m worried about you, my flower.”

“Mama, I’m trying to get settled. You know how it is in a new town.” She jumped again and the edge of the shovel severed the bulb from the roots. “Plus, I’m starting a business.”

There was a pause and Persephone dropped to her knees, scrabbling in the earth to rip out the ganglionic roots, trying to ignore the cold pinpricks of guilt dart across her skin after hearing just the first syllables of her mother’s clipped tone. “I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to expect that my daughter could take time to let her mother know she’s okay. After everything that’s happened, I think I’m entitled to worrying about you.” 

Persephone followed the root system to the next clump, trying to trace the edges of the bulb through the dirt. “Mama, I really don’t want to talk about this.” She took in a deep breath. “And I have been replying to your texts.”

“You send me less than a sentence a few days after I reach out.”

“I can try to be more prompt, but like I said, I’m really busy and I don’t have time to write as much as I used to.” 

Another long pause and Persephone stiffened, waiting for the blow to fall. When Cybele spoke again, her tone was softer and more coaxing, but Persephone didn’t relax a single hair. “I’m always here if you want to talk, my sweet girl. I just wish you had reached out to me before you acted out. I’m sorry if you felt like you couldn’t approach me directly.”

Persephone could feel the anger swirling in her blood, knew the vein in her forehead was beginning to stand out, and she clenched her jaw, trying desperately to bite back all the words she wanted to scream behind the ivory gate of her teeth. Instead, she reached for her shovel. “I appreciate that, Mother, but I really don’t want to discuss this now. Especially over the phone.”

Cybele let out a hollow laugh. “Oh, of course. We can discuss your expulsion at a time that is most convenient to you. Forgive me for assuming that, since I paid for the university to stay quiet and keep your name out of the papers, I am due any sort of explanation or apology.”

Persephone gritted her teeth, stomping on the shovel with more force than strictly necessary. “Mama, I really appreciate all that you’ve done for me. But I’m at work and I can’t go into this right now.” _Not wholly a lie_.

“I see. Just know that when you want to explain this all, I’ll be here.” And then, with her usual dizzying speed, Cybele latched onto the new topic. “How fortunate, I was actually calling about a job opportunity for you.”

The shovel loosened the bulb a little, so Persephone bent over, wrapping her fingers around the smooth surface and pulled, spraying dirt and blistered roots all over her front. “That’s very thoughtful, but I’ve already done a lot of part-time work at your company and I’m not really looking for an internship right now.” She tossed the bulb away from her with a sharp exhale.

“It’s a full-time position with a salary, Kore-Cob. Don’t be so hasty to turn your nose up at this opening. You would have the opportunity to work with some of the greatest minds in our field.”  
“In your field,” Persephone muttered.

“What was that?” Cybele De Metre hated being interrupted in the middle of a pitch, especially by her daughter.

“Nothing. Sorry. Please continue.”

“As I was saying, you would get to work on some of the most exciting projects in agrochemical and agricultural biotechnology. The role would primarily be involved with our ongoing wheat project, but if you performed well, I’m sure Khloris would be happy with your help in the floral division and you could start to choose your own path. I’ll have Daphne email you the details.”

Persephone turned to the stalk of the sago palm and gritted her teeth. _I might as well tackle this_. “Don’t worry about it, Mama. My landscaping business is doing well and I’m happy with it.” She began to dig beneath the curving weight of the plant, keeping a watchful eye on where the root system had spread. 

“I know, but just keep this in mind, okay? I would be much more comfortable knowing you’re financially stable and independent.”

Persephone unearthed a bulbous cluster of roots and wrenched it from the earth with vicious satisfaction. “I am financially stable, Mom.” She forced a half-hearted chuckle. “I don’t have any debt and, besides, I wouldn’t have started a landscaping company if it wasn’t fiscally responsible.”

“Well, that because we worked so hard while you were in high school so you’d have the best chance of getting scholarships.” Persephone drove the head of the shovel into the dirt with a resounding thud. “I just want to make sure you have options in case this whole endeavor doesn’t work out. Plus, this job would have medical coverage.” 

“Like I said, it’s a very kind offer, but I’m really committed to my business.”

“I understand, and I admire your work ethic, sweetheart. Think of this as a backup.”

“I’ve already started turning a profit, Mama. I appreciate your help, but I’m doing well.” She jumped on her shovel, using her full weight to drive it deeper into the earth, which caused the sago palm to shudder slightly. 

“Yes, Kore-Cob, that’s very nice, but I happen to own a few businesses of my own and I can tell you it’s always good to have a Plan B.”

Persephone leaned back on her shovel, using her body weight to lift the stalk on the fulcrum of the shovel head, her arms shaking from more than the strain of her physical labor. “Again, I appreciate that you thought of me, but I’d prefer not to work for your company.”

“You’ve made that abundantly clear in the past, Kore. I just want you to know that there’s always a place for you at BarleyMother.” Cybele’s tone became even more cajoling. “I’m your mother and I love you very much. I’m always here for you.”

Persephone grunted with the effort of trying to dislodge the sago. God, this one is a stubborn bastard. “Love you too, Mama.” 

“I just need you to know that I’ll catch you when you fail, sweetheart.”

And with a resounding CRACK, her shovel handle splintered under the strain of the unstoppable gardener and the immovable plant. Persephone fell back hard on the dirt and the sago palm creaked, settling back into its former position. She looked down at her hands and groaned. A splinter was wedged deep into the meat of her left palm and she had burst a few calluses on both hands. “Mama, I have to let you go. I had a tool incident.”

“Oh no! You really should be more careful, Kore-Cob. I love you and hope to talk to you soon.”**

“Yeah, Mama. Love you too.” She hung up and let loose an exasperated groan. “You know what,” she shot an accusatory glare at the plant and splintered shovel, “fuck this. I’m getting a hoe.” She stalked off, silently fuming. _What will it take for my mother to take me seriously? 'When I fail?'_ She grabbed a hoe, hefting it across her shoulder before striding back to the sago plant. _I might as well just stay silent. God knows she doesn’t listen to a word I say anyway. Persephone took a moment to pin her wayward curls off of her forehead. I hate that I constantly concede to her. But what am I supposed to do? She’s given me so much money and besides that, she’s joint on my account. I know all too well what happens when I defy her._ She flexed her fingers, breathing in deeply, letting the anger consume her. Her blood was singing in her ears, the throbbing in her hand ebbed away, and for the first time in a very long time, Persephone felt powerful.   
  
“It’s just you and me now, motherfucker.” 

Persephone raised the hoe over her head, then brought it swinging down again and again with a war cry, severing first one, then two, and more and more bulbs from the stalk of the _Cycas revoluta_. After fifteen minutes of frenzied plant slaughter, her arms were shaking too badly to continue without a break. She straightened up, massaging the stiffness of the her lower back, and wiped the sweat from her brow. Surveying the carnage before her, the gardener swore under her breath. “Who the fuck thought a sago plant was a good idea?”

“That would be me, actually.” She jumped and whirled around, dropping the wooden handle of her hoe. Hades was holding a glass of water with one hand, the other raised in a sign of non-aggression. “In my defense, I know nothing about plants.”

“Oh! Hades.” Persephone pulled out her headphones, stowing them in a pocket. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you walk up.” She took the proffered glass, wincing a little at the ache in her hand. _God, why did I keep working with a splinter?_

“Don’t apologize for being busy, Persephone. It’s hot enough I thought you could use a break.” Hades smiled down at her and the last whispers of her anger evaporated, leaving exhaustion in their wake. Every muscle complained at even the strain of standing and her hands shook a little as she took a deep drag of water. Hades furrowed his brow, staring intently into her eyes. “Are you okay? If your blood sugar is dropping, I have some food inside.” He leaned in slightly and Persephone’s heartbeat quickened at the softness in his gaze. “Please let me make you lunch.”

“I’m fine, Hades. I just overdid it a little.”

He looked at the battlefield before them: the sago palm drooping to one side, revealing clusters of roots, the bulbs scattered across the dark earth like shrapnel fragments, and finally the broken pieces of Persephone’s wooden shovel. “I’ll say. It looks like a bear attack.” She snickered and his eyes snapped back to her, his lips twitching upward in a slightly pleased smile. “I had no idea you were so vicious, Miss De Metre.” Persephone took another sip of water and opened her mouth to reply, but stopped herself when she saw the look on Hades’ face. He had paled, drawing his lips together in a pained expression. It made his already strong features look sharp enough to cut. “Kore, you’re bleeding.”

She glanced down. The glass she gripped was slick with red-orange tinted condensation. “Oh, sugar snaps.” Persephone let out a frustrated sigh. “It’s just a few calluses and a splinter or two. No big deal.”

Hades stepped closer, holding out his palm. “May I?”

Persephone gripped her glass a little tighter, trying not to wince. From the stern expression on Hades’ face, she failed. “It’s really no problem. I just need a bandaid and then I can get back to work.”

Hades shot her another skeptical look. “Kore, I trust that you know your own limits, but I would certainly feel better if you cleaned up your hand before making that decision.” He shifted awkwardly. “You’ve done so much today and I’m happy to pay you for the full day, if money is your concern.”

Persephone clenched her jaw. “Thank you, but it isn’t. I promised you I’d get the sago palms removed and I’m already behind schedule.”

“I’m flexible on the schedule.” 

“You’re paying for services rendered, Hades. Surely you understand why I might be frustrated that I’m lagging so far behind.” Persephone tried to blink back her annoyance. “But I suppose I could work until the evening for a few days and get caught up.”

Hades drew himself up to his full height. “Miss Kore, while I admire your drive and your work ethic, I am not paying you to destroy yourself to make me a garden. I would rather have this project run even a month behind schedule than you hurt yourself. You are a crew of one, after all, I expected that you would need time off.”

“But, Hades, it’s in the contract—“ She protested, even while her traitorous heart was imagining a warm bubble bath and curling up under warm blankets on the couch. _Maybe I need a break_.

Sensing her hesitation, he smiled disarmingly. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” He leaned in close and whispered conspiratorially. “It can be our secret.” 

Persephone’s skin erupted in goosebumps and she flushed. “I suppose…”

Hades smiled at her and Persephone felt her knees begin to wobble. “Good. Now, let’s get you cleaned up. I should have bandages, tweezers, and saline in the bathroom.” They started walking towards the house and Persephone noticed Hades was adjusting his stride so she didn’t have to hurry. He glanced at her out of the side of his eye. “The offer of lunch still stands, by the way. I know the dogs would be excited to see you.”

“Thank you, Hades. That sounds nice.” The ache in her hands was beginning to lessen and a very silly part of her suspected it might be due to the warmth and consideration of the man beside her. “I love spending time with your dogs.”

She glanced down at her hands at just the wrong moment, missing the way Hades’ steps faltered for a moment and the crimson blush that spread across his face. But she would notice the brightness in his eyes as he prepared a meal for them in his dark kitchen, the easiness of his smile as they chatted about the dogs, and by the time she was on her way to her apartment, hands bandaged and stomach full, the sickening feeling that followed nearly every conversation she had with her mother would be nothing more than a distant memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Persephone's mother, Cybele De Metre, calls her about a job opportunity at her agricultural biotechnology company. She begins the conversation by making Persephone feel guilty for not contacting her as much as she used to, made reference to Persephone's expulsion for college and the fact that Cybele paid the college to keep it quiet, and then tells Persephone that she always has a place in her company if and when her landscaping business fails. Persephone tries to deescalate the conversation while taking her rage out on the sago.
> 
> See! I can do a little less fluff. ;) Fair warning, the next chapter is going to bump us up to a Mature rating, but don't get too excited yet.


	7. Weighed and Found Wanting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades tends to Persephone's injuries and sets about an onerous task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! As I'm sure you've noticed, the fic rating and tags have changed. This chapter is a little heavier and a lot more angsty, so I added extra good dog content to get us through this. 
> 
> Warnings for mentions of parental abuse (nothing explicitly violent, but references of enough habits specific to growing up in an abusive households that it warrants a trigger warning), mention of the loss of loved ones, the aftermath of a plane crash, and drinking. As always, I will set off potentially triggering sections with a pair of asterisks (**) and will provide a brief summary in the end notes. I will also mention a fairly well-known legal case from the late 90s. 
> 
> Full disclosure, this is my first time writing content of a steamy nature, so your comments and suggestions are welcome! I want to improve! :)

The last two weeks had been the greatest test of Hades’ resolve in years. The moment he decided once and for all to suppress every glimmer of hope, crushing down his feelings for Persephone with work, whiskey, or whatever else banished the memory of her soft smile, she would do something so breathtakingly kind that the strength of his will crumbled.

The woman brought him flowers, for fuck’s sake. _She’s a gardener and sees flowers every day. Don’t read too much into it._ All the same, he went upstairs to the guest quarters and dug around in all his packed boxes until he found a cut-glass vase worthy of the bright blue flowers. He also spent twenty minutes researching how to care for cut plants on Oracle. 

“Okay, all clean.” She let out a little huff, hopping up on the countertop. “We might as well get this over with.” She extended her palm, resting it in Hades’ extended hand. Her hands were so small and soft, despite their many calluses, and Hades became terribly aware that this was the first time he had really held her hand. Persephone met his questioning gaze with a tight smile. “Do your worst.”

“Please tell me if it hurts, okay?” Tenderly, he pressed the tweezers against her warm flesh and devoted his full concentration to digging out the shards of wood buried in this beautiful woman’s hand. Her palm was raw and inflamed and Hades counted three painful looking slivers. He glanced up over the rim of his glasses. “You really should have stopped the moment you got these.”

“I thought you were a lawyer, not a doctor.” Hades’ eyebrow twitched reflexively at her tetchy tone. It was the first time he heard a note of petulance in her voice and, god help him, he liked it. Persephone bit her lip as he began coaxing out the first sliver. “Sorry, Hades. It hurts. Probably because I was a stubborn idiot.”

“I’m not a doctor, but I have two little brothers and a foster sister that was a force of nature, so I’ve had some practice with this.” The sliver was almost near enough to the surface to pull out. “I’m sorry, Kore, this is going to sting.” With a tug and a sharp exhalation from Persephone, the first splinter was out. Hades leaned over her hand, coaxing the end of the next splinter. “You’re not an idiot, Kore. Headstrong and passionate, yes, but not an idiot.”

Persephone snorted and Hades looked up at her with a confused expression. “Sorry, that was very sweet, but don’t worry. I know I’m smart.” Kore was usually so careful, couching every statement in pages of research, that her assurance startled him slightly. It hit Hades then that this was the first time they were really interacting outside of business. _Aside from the time we crashed into each other._

“I would hope so.” Hades smiled slightly to himself. _Maybe she’s more confident when she can just be herself, away from the expectations of her business? I hope she feels like she can be herself around me_. 

Persephone winced as Hades unsuccessfully tried to grab one end of the splinter with his tweezers. “Oof. Um, could you distract me? Tell me about your law practice.”

“Are you sure? It’s awfully boring.” _You don’t have to indulge an old man, Sweetness_. 

“Like I said, Hades, I’m smart as hell. I memorize the Latin names of plants. Nothing is too boring for me.” Hades couldn’t hide his wide smile. _Passionate, funny, impudent, breathtakingly smart, and a bit of a nerd? The perfect woman is perched on my bathroom countertop practically demanding that I explain tort law._ Hades was smitten.

“Okay.” He began to gently pry the splinter loose, pausing every time Persephone’s hand twitched. “It was originally my grandfather’s firm, my father took it over, and I—” he dug beneath the skin as delicately as he could—“I guess I joined the family business. I took over the firm after my father died.” He glanced up at Persephone and noticed that she was watching him with concern. He smiled sheepishly at her and leaned back over her hand. “We did some contract cases, but the firm primarily focused on mass torts.”

Persephone brushed the fingertips of her free hand across his knuckles, her touch warm and electric. “I’m sorry about your dad, Hades.” She patted the back of his hand softly, like she was skimming her hand across the surface of a deep lake. “We don’t have to talk about this.”

Hades let out a deep breath and squeezed her wrist gently. “Kore, don’t worry.” He looked up at Persephone, fighting against the urge to gaze at her plush, slightly parted lips, instead focusing on the concern pooling in her eyes. “He was a bastard and the world is better without him.” _So much for holding back_.

She let out a snort, her free hand flying up to cover her mouth, her eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. “Oh god! Sorry, fuck, I didn’t expect that. Jesus, sorry, I laugh when I’m nervous.” She met Hades’ gaze hesitantly, her beautiful eyes wide and shining like a deer in headlight. He felt a rush of affection for this kind woman while at the same time trying to fight back laughter at how ridiculously worried she looked. Her eyebrows were almost high enough to disappear into her hairline, which was incredibly sweet, but also objectively funny. He snorted, covered his mouth to try and fight back laughter, and Persephone exploded into giggles. Hades bent over Persephone’s outstretched hand, trying to keep from shaking with mirth, and Persephone threw her head back, her shoulders bobbing with each peal of laughter.

Persephone caught her breath first, wiping tears from the corner of her eyes. “I’m so sorry, I’m a terrible person.” She used her whole palm to brush a few stray curls off her forehead with a grimace and Hades watched, enchanted. “I can’t fucking believe I laughed at your dad’s death.”

Hades grinned. “In all fairness, it’s probably the most unique response I’ve gotten.” She shot him a panicked look and Hades raised his hand like he was swearing in court. “I’m not even a little upset, Persephone. Promise.” She visibly relaxed and he continued, bending once more over her hand. “I meant what I said: he demanded subservience and respect at any cost in life and I can’t think of a more fitting tribute to his death than laughter.”

Persephone made a soft sound and gently traced his wrist with her fingertips. “Hades, that sounds awful. No one deserves to live under the shadow of a cruel parent. As fucked up as this sounds, I hope that his death has been a relief.” He desperately wanted to lean into her touch, to feel her soft fingers carding through his hard, stroking his skin as he bared his soul. _But that is an impossible dream_. 

She would run the moment she realized just how similar the man before her was to his tyrant of a father. So he cleared his throat, nodding slightly. “Thank you, Miss Demeter. I appreciate that.”

She shifted slightly and broke eye contact looked at the floor. Hades could tell his sudden formality had hurt her. Hades brooded over her small hand, squinting through his glasses while dark thoughts swirled in his mind. A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed then Persephone shifted, hummed softly. “So, mass torts. Are those anything like class action lawsuits?”

Hades nodded, relieved at the change of subject. “Yes. Our firm primarily dealt with negligence suits and statutory torts. Basically, if you could make a case that a reasonable person would expect a duty of care and there was a breach of that duty that caused you direct damage, we’d hear you out.”

“So did you do a lot of medical malpractice suits? That seems like the most direct application.” Persephone winced a little at the exploration of her tweezers. 

Hades huffed a laugh. “No, we tended to go after companies, not individuals.”

“Oh?” Persephone straightened up, her feet wiggling a little in excitement. _She’s actually interested in what I’m saying?_ “So more like that case of the eighty-year-old woman who got third-degree burns from a cup of coffee?”

The end of the splinter was just about out of Persephone’s palm. “Exactly. That’s actually a very interesting example of product liability.” He glanced up at Persephone. “Please stop me if you get bored, okay? I used to be paid to talk about this stuff for hours and, well, old habits die hard.”

Persephone smiled down at him and nodded. “Are you kidding? This is the most fun I’ve ever had getting a splinter removed.”

Hades shot her a skeptical look. “First of all, she was served coffee that was heated to 180ºF, well above a safe limit. Her burns were severe enough all over her pelvic region that they required skin grafts. Keep in mind, this woman was in her late seventies. She initially sued for a sum that would cover her medical bills. But this particular establishment refused to settle and, very damningly, offered her $800, less than a tenth of her medical bills. When the case went to trial, it came out that the defendant had actually had more than seven hundred complaints of people burned by their coffee and historically settled for about 500k for equivalent injuries.”

“Oof, that does sound pretty incriminating!”

“Exactly. Clearly, they were fully aware that their product was causing burns of varying severity, so they knowingly breached their duty of care every time they served coffee at such a high temperature.” 

Persephone crowed in triumph. “I hope she bankrupted them!”

Hades smiled at the petite woman’s outburst. “Unfortunately, she didn’t, partially because the company in question had deep pockets and a good marketing team.” He let a little of his old pride seep into his voice. “Of course, she wasn’t our client. Those are the kind of cases we specialized in and we had a public relations professional on staff, so we were very good at controlling the optics. However, the firm would only take cases that had a substantial payday.” Hades did his best to ignore the churning of guilt in his gut. _If it were a risky case, we would leave people high and dry. How many desperate, hurt people did I turn away because taking their cases wouldn’t cut me a big enough check?_ A vision of a scared young mechanic rose unbidden in his mind. _I should have known better. I should have been better. Damn the risk, the expense, the exposure, I should have been willing to take the case._ With a swift motion, he jerked the splinter free.

Persephone bit her lip again, murmuring, “I don’t know, Hades. Payday or not, it sounds like noble work.” He could feel the weight of her gaze on him, brighter than the sunlight lazily filling the room. “You must miss it.”

“No, not really.” The last splinter was wedged in less deeply than the other two, but was much longer. _How in the hell did she keep going after getting this?_ His back was beginning to complain at bending over for so long. “Make no mistake, being a lawyer is all bullshit and eighty-percent theatrics. I may have helped some people, but that was always incidental to the main goal: winning.” Words kept tumbling out of him as he began to work at the splinter, happy to see it was giving way with ease. “You get lost in the chase. I know I did.” He breathed the last words in a faint whisper. If Persephone heard him, she was merciful enough to pretend she didn’t.

“You mentioned that you’re working with Hecate now?” She shifted slightly on the countertop. “Forgive me for asking, but are you now doing something related to funerary law?”

Hades tried not to betray his shock with a jolt of his hands, though he knew bug-eyed expression probably told all. _Fuck, she is smart. I underestimated her_. “That’s an excellent guess. I’m no longer practicing law, though. Now I’m just a humble funeral director.”

He could tell she was curious from the way she had leaned in, waiting with bated breath. What did she parse from my vagueness? He had taught her caution, however, and if she deduced anything from his silence, she kept it to herself. “That sounds like such a fascinating career. Are you taking over a funeral home in town?”

“I’m starting my own.” He began to work out the blunt edge of the splinter, careful not to drive the sharp point deeper. “It’s called Elysium Funerary and Memorial Center. Officially as of this morning, actually. I just got the articles of incorporation.”

“Wow! That’s incredible! You should celebrate.” Persephone’s smile could light a small city for at least a week. God, her unguarded enthusiasm was magnetic. Hades tore his eyes away from her soft lips with difficulty, focusing on her hand once more.

“I’ll wait to celebrate once everything is finished and I start turning a profit.” Hades could almost reach the end of the splinter with his tweezers. 

“Ugh, you’re no fun.” Persephone cocked her head, looking out the window with a sigh. “If you wait to enjoy yourself until you’ve achieved perfection, you’ll never have a good time.” 

He huffed in disdain. “I prefer to earn my rewards, Miss Kore. I’m not one of my dogs; I don’t need to motivate myself with pointless prizes.” He winced, realizing how harsh his words sounded.

Persephone arched a perfect eyebrow. “Interesting. I seem to recall you telling me to take some time off and reward myself for my hard work even though I haven’t finished the job.” She poked him with the tip of her toe and he sucked in a breath. _Fuck_.

“That’s different.”

“Is it really?” Persephone tilted her head, her expression calculating. Hades tried not to gulp. She had him outflanked and she knew it. Either he had to admit she was right or press on with his point and compare her to his dogs. He underestimated her again. 

Hades chose a third option. “Hmmpf,” he grunted, seizing the end of the sliver and tugging a little hard than he probably should have. After putting up some resistance, it slid out of Persephone’s palm. She twitched, closing her eyes tightly, and Hades immediately was filled with regret. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have been so rough.”

Persephone breathed out and peered intently at her hand, shifting it in the light. “At least that’s all of it, I think.” She let out a soft breath and looked down at him, the sunlight slanting through the bathroom window making a halo of the pink curls that had fallen out of her ponytail. She smiled down in a benediction. “Thank you, Hades, you really didn’t need to do this.” 

If he had been fifteen years younger, Hades would have lifted a hand to stroke her cheek and Persephone would have leaned into his touch as he stood to his full height, leaning down to tentatively kiss her. Her lips may have even parted with a soft sigh, his body pressed against hers, her legs wrapping around his waist in a sweetly perfect culmination of the closeness they both longed for. But time had hardened him and Hades, damning himself for a coward, broke eye contact with Persephone. “You’re welcome, Miss De Metre.” He stood up, massaging the stiffness in his lower back. “I understand if you want to leave, but please at least let me bandage your hand.”

“Does the offer of lunch still stand?”

Hades’ lips twitched upward slightly. “Are you sure you want to dine with a grumpy old man?” 

She cocked her head. “I thought the deal was lunch with you and the dogs. Did you forget to mention a cantankerous and wizened roommate?” 

He laughed softly. “No, just me and the pack.”

“Well, in that case, obviously I want to have lunch.” She slid off the counter and extended her uninjured hand. “Truce?”

Hades clasped it and shook. “Truce? I think you meant checkmate, Kore.” 

“I have decided to extend mercy to you. This time.” She flounced out of the bathroom, flashing a smile at him over her shoulder. “Where are my good puppers at?!” 

Hades gripped the counter, eyes fixed on his reflection while every nerve cried out for him to relishing the way her hips swayed. He pointed at himself and hissed. “Get your shit together, Hades.”

The rest of the afternoon passed with blessed ease. Kore helped him make pasta: apparently she was a vegetarian, which was a fact he definitely did not file away in a corner of his mind. They chatted pleasantly over lunch and the tension they had felt in the bathroom melted away over a warm meal. She left after he roundly refused to let her help him clean the dishes. Hades leaned over the soapy sink, scrubbing away at the pan, trying very hard not to watch the boxy little car drive away. God help him, he lifted the scrub brush to wave goodbye. 

Mushroom sat beside Hades as he cleaned the dishes, watching the sink hopefully and licking his lips every few moments. Hades groaned. “I’m so screwed, Shroomy.” The dog wiggled his curly tail and Hades sighed. “I know, I know, boy. She is nice.” He began to scrub the pot with renewed vigor. “But I’m acting like a goddamn teenager. It’s like I’ve never seen a woman before.” 

He rinsed the pot and set in on the drying rack and reached for the cutting board. Mushroom whined, eyeing the vegetable scraps on the board. “Let’s face it, I’m not the easiest person to be around. I’m stubborn, set in my ways, and I’ve got a business to run, for fu—fork’s sake.” Hades surreptitiously tossed a slice of tomato to Mushroom and it vanished in a heartbeat. “But Kore is, well, she’s a breath of fresh air.” Mushroom tilted his head. “Of course I love you, baby. You’re a good boy.” Mushroom panted happily, rubbing his head against Hades’ thigh. He began to wash the cutting board and then the knives in the warm soapy water, lost in thought. Mushroom stretched out behind Hades, pressing his back against Hades’ ankles. 

Hades dried the knives and glanced over at the pile of mail on the bar. Most of it was junk, but he had been avoiding the letters for days now. Especially the ones in colored envelopes. God, those scared him the most. He had decided to read all of them today and if anything, the time he spent with Persephone bolstered his spirits. He could do this. _No you can’t_ , whispered a traitorous voice. _Better to throw them all away unread. It doesn’t matter, not really. Their writers got whatever catharsis they needed just by sending them to you. You don’t need to read them_.

Hades settled himself on a bar stool, sorting the mail into piles: junk, trash, ads, letters from that asshole journalist asking for comments on her article, business-related mail, and letters from the families. **Might as well dive in. He picked up a light yellow envelope and sliced it along the seam with his letter opener. Hades took a deep breath and unfolded the stationary. His stomach dropped a little at the butterflies and flowers in the margins of the old-fashioned paper. Steeling himself, he began to read.  
  


> Mr Klymenos,
> 
> I wanted to let you know how deeply our family appreciates your financial help with my mother’s funeral. We couldn’t have covered the funeral costs and your assistance allowed us to give her a fitting tribute. I cannot express how much your generosity meant and still means to me and my family. I never expected that a stranger would do something so selfless. 
> 
> From the bottom of my heart, thank you.  
>  Edith Hamilton

The paper fell from his hand, the last sentence twisting in his gut. He checked the post date and, sure enough, it had been sent before the Times article. He rubbed at his eyes, grimacing. He had told his banker to be explicit with the families that the lump sums were not gifts, but reparations. Clearly if this poor woman hadn’t got the message. His hand shaking slightly, he opened the next letter. It was a nondescript white envelope containing a single sheet of printer paper, ink smudged by tears and what looked like coffee stains.

> You absolute piece of shit. You will never understand what you’ve done and I hope you fucking rot in hell for covering up for Astrapios Airways. No one should have to bury their fiancé. I hope you know the agony of being told they couldn’t find enough of your loved one’s body to bury. I hope you know it a hundred times over for every one of the people that died in that crash.
> 
> Fuck you.
> 
> P.S. Fuck you and your money. Fuck you for thinking you could weasel your way out of this with cash. I hope you die screaming.

Hades pinched the bridge of his nose, bending over and resting his head between his legs until the wave of nausea passed and he stopped shaking. _You can stop whenever you want, Hades. You don’t have to do this to yourself._ Hades got to his feet shakily and wandered over to the cabinet, pouring himself a scotch in a daze. He had fifteen more to get through and he needed all the courage, liquid or otherwise, that he could find. 

It took him two hours and about three more glasses of scotch, but he did read every letter. By the end, the words before his eyes swam as snatches from the letters swirled in his mind: “ _People like you are worse than the politicians, because you protect them and hide their corruption;” “I knew you had donated to charity in my daughter’s name, but it wasn’t until I saw your photo in the Times article that I realized you attended her funeral;” “He was everything I had. He was only on that flight because his first flight was delayed and he missed his first connection;”_ and, worst of all, the letters in languages he could only read with the help of an online translator, every phrase, broken and mangled by an unfeeling algorithm, conveying a depth of anguish that snaked around Hades’ heart like an anchor.

Somehow he managed to make his way over to the couch, slumped across it with one arm dangling haphazardly on the concrete floor, and proceeded to sink into oblivion.** It was easy to lose himself in the quiet darkness: the gentle snoring of the dogs harmonizing with the thrum of his heartbeat in the cavern of his chest and the rhythmic sloshing of blood in his ears. At the edge of sleep as his consciousness slipped away on the gentle tide of alcohol and exhaustion, Hades was just a body. And god, he just needed to not exist for a while. 

He was roused by the warm heat of Cerberus’ humid, stinky breath. Hades sputtered, wiping the drool from his face, and winced in pain as the world crashed in on him like a tidal wave. Well, if tidal waves were made of knives and noise. Fuck. This is why I shouldn’t drink. Disturbed by the sudden movement, Cordon Bleu darted away from where he had laid curled up by Hades’ neck and settled on top of the couch back with an indifferent snort. An irrational rush of panic broke across Hades when he couldn’t move his legs only to find Big John draped across them. Cerberus whined again and it was like being stabbed in the ear with a red-hot length of barbed wire. Hades groaned, covering his ears and mumbling, “Okay, okay, I know,” blearily as he worked to extricate himself from the hairy pile of dogs. 

Through either divine intervention or muscle memory, he managed to portion out dinner for all the dogs, corral them into their separate eating spaces, and type out a barely coherent text to Hecate:

Hades: Cab we mmet tmorrw. Want ti du walkthru if buidling.

Hecate responded almost immediately and Hades winced at the siren-like squealing of his text ping. 

> Hecate: Hades, it’s 6pm, how are you college-levels of wasted?   
>  Hecate: Are you okay? Do I need to come over? 

Hades, cursing every animate and inanimate object whose names pierced through the fog of his hungover mind, typed a quick reply. 

Hades: m fine. life s alot

Luckily, this answer seemed to satisfy Hecate, because his phone remained blessedly silent. His mouth was a swampy desert. Hades rubbed the sleep from his eyes, staggered to the fridge, and drank greedily from his water pitcher. He opened the freezer and dug out the frozen eye mask Hera bought him as a gag gift on his thirty-fifth birthday. It soothed the pounding in his head a little and his eyes felt less like overheated marbles. Hades let the dogs outside and collapsed on the couch with a moan. His phone made the horrific shrieking beep and Hades swore, digging in the cushions for the infernal device. _So help me, Hecate, if you sent me a one letter reply, I will murder you in the quietest way imaginable._

> Kore: Hi Hades, thanks again for taking care of my hand. I think you may have missed your calling, lol. 😂 Thanks especially for lunch. It was delicious! I’ll make sure to include zucchini in your kitchen planting. ☺️ I hope you’re having a nice evening! 

  
She attached a grainy picture of her hand. Hades threw his head back on the couch with a groan and a hiss of pain. _Fuck me. Why does she have to be so fucking nice to me?_ J.P. bonked his head against the glass and Hades slowly got to his feet. After opening the sliding glass door and barely sidestepping the onslaught of dogs, he made his way to the kitchen and choked down two Alka-Seltzer before shuffling off to his bedroom.

Hades felt the warmth first, like the light of summer sunshine pouring through the window, heavy on his chest. And then the radiance shifted, gently tickling his earlobe, along the curve of his jaw, tracing the scars on his chest, a gentle weight resting against his thighs. Hades opened his eyes and blinking, half-blinded, reached into the sunbeam. His fingers brushed against curly hair and the woman hummed against his chest.

“Aidoneus, you’re finally awake.” Kore stretched against him, pressing the slightest tantalizing curve of her breasts against him, meeting his eyes and arching an eyebrow with agonizing coquettishness. “I was wondering how long I’d have to tease you.” Her fingertips, just as skilled and playful as Hades had imagined they’d be, gently tickled against his hip bone. She leaned across him, her body so warm, so soft, so right, and pressed a warm kiss to his cheek. “What would you think of going in to work late, my love?” she whispered into his ear, her warm breath stirring Hades to alertness. Hades groaned and Kore snickered, her sweet lips parting for just a moment to suck on his earlobe.

“Sweetness,” Hades breathed. _Is this what home feels like?_

Kore giggled. “Am I being too mean to you, Aidoneus?” God, he would fall at her feet to worship the way her nose crinkled when she laughed.

Instead, he wrapped one arm around her waist and growled, “Not nearly enough, little goddess.” She was so small that the tip of her toes barely reached his calves when they were eye to eye. His hand gripped the warmth of her hip and she gasped, sending shivers down Hades’ spine. 

Kore purred, turning her attention from his ear to nibble gently along his jawline. Hades exhaled with only the faintest of moans, winding his fingers into her magenta hair. “Mmm, my apologies, Mr. Klymenos.” She pressed her lips against his, sucking his lower lip between her teeth for just a moment before breaking away, raising herself up on one elbow with wide grin. “Please allow me to rectify the… situation.” Kore bit her lip, eyes trailing downward. 

Hades hissed, pressing himself against the curve of her perfect thighs. “Fuck, Kore, you minx.”

This woman, no, goddess smiled down at him with such adoration and warmth that it took Hades’ breath away. She extended one hand to cup his jaw, gently tracing his cheekbone with the pad of her thumb and Hades relaxed into her touch. Kore was lit from behind by the golden light of early morning, more light than his round window should allow, and Hades drank in the perfection of her every inch bathed in the glory of sunshine, her deep brown skin emitting a glow all its own, and wreathed by a wild, tousled halo of the brightest pink. Hades groaned, clenching the sheets with one hand.

“Mmm, my Aidoneus.” Persephone murmured, unrelenting, capturing his mouth in a deep kiss sweeter than nectar, the fingers of her free hand gently tracing his stubbled cheek. “I love the sounds you make for me, my darling.”

God, just the warmth of her touch was enough to bring Hades close to the brink, but her nearness, the eagerness of her attention, and fuck, the way the sheets and pillowcase smelled just like her distinctive perfume caused his eyes to roll back in his head, his self-control fading with each of her kisses. Her touch was like fire in the deepest winter, an oasis in the desert. Hades was not a religious man, but he would spend his whole life worshiping in her temple if he could get one more perfect moment like this. 

And then the perfect pressure vanished and she was peppering kisses along his collarbone. “I need to get cleaned up, Aidoneus” Hades whined at the sudden chill as the room darkened. Kore had clambered out of bed and was smiling down at him. She leaned in close to kiss first his lips, then his forehead. “I promise I’ll just be down the hall. It won’t take more than a second and then we can cuddle.” Her lips parted and she kissed him deeply one final time before slipping on one of his shirts and padding out the door.

Hades sighed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, painfully aware of his frustration at her absence. He sat up with a grunt and his heart stopped at the sight of the shuttered windows with patterned green curtains. This wasn’t his house. Frantically, he reached for his phone only to knock over the dolphin figurine on the nightstand. 

He recoiled, drawing the sheets around his waist, suddenly aware of how small the bed was for him. It had been too small even when he was thirteen and his knees were bent at a painful angle just to fit. His breathing came fast and shallow, his heart thundering in his ears. He was home. Fuck, he was home, and Kore was clattering in the bathroom. 

**The downstairs door slammed. Nausea rolled over him like an electric storm, every nerve in his body alert and screaming: _He’s awake! Run, hide, leave her behind!_ He could hear the squeak of Kronos’ work shoes, the arrhythmic creaking as he began to storm up the stairs. _Get Posie, get Zeus away as quickly as you can and barricade the door behind you. He’ll tire himself out before he can find them._ But Kore was in the bathroom and she didn’t know how to hide. She didn’t know how to curl up into a ball, how to protect her face and hands and breathe deep until it passed. Hades was shaking and the adrenaline was already beginning to haze out his hearing, but he stood, wobbling to the door. The faster he walked, the slower he moved. He tried to run, but it was like moving through molasses. He opened his mouth to scream a warning, to distract his father, anything. But Kronos had reached the top of the stairs. It was too late. _It was always too late._ **

Hades collided with the cold concrete of his bedroom, legs still tangled in his navy sheets, covered in sweat and shaking. He pressed his palms against the cold indifference of stone and sobbed. Mushroom whimpered and Cerberus stirred in his sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you interested, the case Hades is referencing is Liebeck v. McDonald's Restaurants. It's a case that's been terribly misrepresented in the popular consciousness, so definitely read about it.
> 
> The first asterisk: Hades reads letters sent to him by the surviving family members of the people who died in the plane crash. Some thank him for the money he sent them as reparations for his part in the accident, others send him vitriol and wish him a painful death for what he did. A few letters mention the article in the Times, and one person mentions seeing Hades at his daughter's funeral. Hades gets roundly plastered and falls asleep on the couch. 
> 
> The second asterisk: Halfway through his dream, Hades realizes he is in his childhood home. Kore's noise rouses Kronos and he storms upstairs while Hades panics about saving himself and his brothers or protecting Kore. He runs to the door but cannot reach it and wakes. 
> 
> Thanks for making it this far! I hope you enjoyed the sliver removal scene and that Hades' steamy dream wasn't too off-putting. ;) I appreciate all of you so much! Please give me any constructive feedback you can think of! Thank you again for reading! :D


	8. Warm Rain on Overgrown Lots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone doesn't like being alone, so a day off is her worst nightmare.
> 
> Chapter title is from a poem by Jacqui Germain, in her beautiful collection "When the Ghosts Come Ashore," which I highly recommend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience! Sorry this one took longer than usual, it ended up being very long. No content warnings this time, although this isn't a terribly fluffy chapter. As ever, thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy.

Relaxation wasn’t something that came easily to Persephone De Metre. Maybe it was all the years she spent competing—first against others then, when she quickly outpaced them, against herself—that complicated things. If she did yoga, she would train until she could do advanced poses, if she focused on her breath, she would breathe so slowly that she’d panic and her heart rate would spike, and any sort of self-care became an elaborate ritual of torture beyond even the wildest dreams of a High Inquisitor.

Persephone had been applauded throughout her childhood and her teen years for her perfectionism. She was the perfect role model: smart, hardworking, soft-spoken, and not challengingly beautiful. The school administrators of the elite private school Cybele insisted upon loved trotting her out like a show pony, teachers always left glowing comments about having her in class on every report card, and her classmates tolerated her try-hard ways for the most part. Of course, none of them witnessed the hours Persephone spent studying, the stress-induced migraines, the hours of extra drills for swim meets and debates, and the crippling anxiety she felt every day before classes began. Anything less than perfection might as well be failure.

Predictably, Persephone’s particular brand of masochism did not fare her well in her adult life. Which is why she had spent almost an hour perched on the granite countertop of Hades Klymenos’ bathroom undergoing surgery. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but trying not to squirm while stuck in tight quarters with a very attractive man in rolled-up shirt sleeves who was passionately talking about his field of study while periodically glancing over the rim of his glasses was certainly an ordeal. 

Persephone spent half of the drive back to her apartment replaying their entire exchange. Surely he was interested, right? There had been one or two times she could have sworn he was going to… well, it didn’t matter, because he didn’t. _All I know for sure is that I like spending time with him_. Persephone idly drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, waiting for the light to turn. _I’m sure he was terrifying in the courtroom, but the man does silly voices for all the dogs. What a huge dork_. She groaned and rested her head against the wheel. _Oh god, this is getting out of hand_. Persephone spent the rest of the drive swearing under her breath. 

And so she was watching back episodes of Wel Etan with a notebook and her favorite highlighters, preparing a meal plan for the week, and decidedly not relaxing as per the doctor’s orders. Her fingers itched and she glanced over at her phone. She really shouldn’t text Hades. She shouldn’t even be thinking about Hades! Persephone huffed, turning over a fresh page in her notebook. _This is me time, Kore. Focus._ She scribbled more notes in the margin of her bullet journal, staring in frustration at the blank pages stretching before her. Three days with nothing to do seemed a lot less attractive when she wasn’t sweating and covered in dirt. The hours could stretch impossibly thin in this tiny apartment with no company but her thoughts. Well, her thoughts and Andhrímnir Brown’s chemistry lessons. Persephone fidgeted, twirling her pen between her fingers, humming tunelessly. _Did you really think that if you kept moving you could outrun me? Oh, Kore, that’s short-sighted even for you_. 

“That’s it!” She tossed her bullet journal onto the couch, striding into her room to grab her bluetooth speaker. “I will not be tyrannized in my own home.” She set the speaker down in her kitchenette with more force than necessary and opened her refrigerator door like she expected the vegetables to leap out at her, fully armed. “I am having fun, goddammit.” Persephone started the first playlist that caught her eye and turned the volume up, using a paring knife to slice off individual florets with practiced ease. 

_This is so simple, Kore_. She tapped her toes in time to the rhythm, humming along in broken harmony, ricotta and mozzarella out of the fridge door. _You can only hide from the silence so long._ Persephone groaned and reached for her phone, turning on a comedy podcast. Voices drown out the quiet better than music. It made it feel like she was hosting monthly potlucks again.

  
“No fucking way, are you serious?”

Artemis held up her hand. “Scout’s honor.”

Eros buried his head in his hands. “Let me get this straight: you climbed onto the statue of an old white dude on campus and made out with him on a dare.” He sighed heavily. “Please tell me you didn’t use tongue.”

Artemis downed another shot and the whole table erupted into crows of laughter.

Reynard smirked. “What did you expect? Odi dared her.” 

Psyche stirred her tea serenely, leaning back in her chair. She was, as usual, Eros’ designated driver and so was not partaking in the festivities. “Artemis, love, are you aware that he lost an eye freshman year after the ash tree incident? I’m not sure he has the best judgement.”

Persephone giggled from the kitchen, stirring a little more basil and salt into the spaghetti sauce that was simmering happily. “Missy, Hastur’s a pigeon hotspot. That’s probably why he dared you to make out with it.”

Eros gagged. “Hurry up with the food, Sephie. I think I’m going to be sick if you leave me much longer with these hooligans.”

Neamhan grinned over her shot glass, the menace of her dark lipstick undercut by her drunken titters. “I think it’s my turn, if you all wouldn’t mind buttoning it.” She straightened in her chair, drawing herself up to her full six feet, her aquiline nose and shock of dark blue, purple, and green hair making her look every inch a queen. “Never have I ever passed out on the quad.”

Eros took a shot, Artemis abstained, and Persephone groaned. “Ugh, you bring that up every time.” She took a sip from her cider. “Get new material, Neamhan.”

“You make it hard on me, Persephone.” Neamhan tossed her hair dramatically. “It would be absolutely grand if you could relax a little and do some shite worth drinking about.”

“Babe, dial it back a bit.” Artemis rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to that bitch, Persephone, you’re the only one who keeps us from blowing the monthly alcohol budget.” 

The table descended into good natured arguing and Persephone turned back to browning the mushrooms. She took another grudging sip of her cider, watching the oil bead and skitter across the surface of the sauce, and inhaled a lungful of savory-scented steam. A gentle hand traced along the edge of her shoulder blades and Persephone relaxed into the touch. “Hey, Psyche, I have more tea in the cupboard. There should be some chai for you.”

Psyche hummed, flicking her long braid over her shoulder and reaching for the top shelf with a slight jingle of her bracelet. “You’re always so thoughtful, Persephone.” She started the kettle and turned to face Persephone, her deep brown eyes searching. “Are you okay? You’ve seemed distant this evening.”

“Sorry, I have a crazy course load this semester and I’m working at the botanical gardens.” Persephone tucked a curl behind her ear, trying to avoid eye contact. “I’m a little scattered, honestly.”

A loud thud caused both of the women to jump and Artemis’ victory cry rang from the table. “Fuck yeah! I’m the fucking god of arm-wrestling. Bow before me, mortals!!”

Psyche rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed, before turning back to Persephone. “You’re always taking a Herculean number of classes. This is different.”

Persephone sighed, glancing quickly over at the table. Her four friends glowed in the warm light of the overhead light, card game a discarded flotsam barely clinging to the sticky tabletop, frozen mid-laughter in a perfect tableau. Icy fingers clenched around Persephone’s heart and she looked away. Nothing gold can stay. “I’ve got a lot going on, I’m sorry, I don’t—“

Psyche squeezed her shoulder. “Love, stop apologizing. You don’t owe me an explanation.” The kettle began to hiss and Psyche poured the hot water over her tea bag. “I’m always here if you need me. Eros too.” She smiled softly, sneaking a glance at her boyfriend. “He’ll wander over in a little bit when it won’t draw any attention to give you a hug. I thought I’d warn you.”

“Thanks. Eros hugs are… intense.” The girls snickered, bent over the stove conspiratorially. “It’s like he’s trying to crush you with the force of his love.”

Psyche grabbed a wooden spoon to help stir and Persephone felt a rush of gratitude for her friend. “Persephone, you have no idea. His dad is so much worse, it’s like being embraced by a mountain.”

Persephone started in the middle of tasting the sauce. “Oh, I forgot, you met them last week. How did it go?”

“They’re very kind and welcoming people: his siblings spent most of the visit crawling all over me. Of course,” Psyche wiggled her eyebrows, “my posh Geordie accent doesn’t hurt.”

Persephone flushed and shot Psyche a withering look. “I’m sorry that I don’t know British accents, Psyche, okay? They all sound really fancy to a small-town girl like me.”

“Well, I am absolutely fabulous, so I understand the confusion.” Psyche’s bright smile dimmed just a few watts. “I just wish my family would show Eros a modicum of the warmth his family has extended to me.” Persephone divided up the sauce into two pans, one with mushrooms for her and Psyche, one with Sicilian meatballs for the meat-eaters of the group, nodding as she listened to her friend. “My mum keeps trying to set me up with other men and Dad, well, he’s taking it worse.” Psyche sighed heavily, taking a long sip of tea. “It got really bad a few weeks ago when one of my aunties found my Nymphstagram and shared it with the family.”

“Oh Psyche, I’m so sorry.” Persephone squeezed her friend’s hand.

“My parents are very old-fashioned and they’re reacting worse because I live in the States.” Psyche took another sip of tea. “Honestly, I think they’re just afraid I’m turning my back on my culture. Of course, they’re also worried about what the extended family will think of me dating the son of two unmarried celebrities.” She sighed, smiling ruefully at Persephone. “South Asian mums are like that. But then, I don’t think I need to tell you about familial pressure.”

Persephone shifted uncomfortably, stirring the pasta in a giant stock pot. “At least I only get the pressure from one person.”

“Yes, but my parents have never acted on their threats to cut me off financially.”

Persephone bit her lip, shaking her head. “Dinner’s almost ready. Could you check on the bread?”

Psyche took the dismissal in stride and opened the oven. A wave of heat enveloped the small kitchen, filling the apartment with the scent of homemade bread. Hoots and hollers came from the table and soon the kitchen was packed with drunken college students fawning over Persephone’s baking. True to his word, Eros encased Persephone in a tight hug as if, for just the brief moments she was in her arms, he could cocoon her from the world. 

The timer rang and Persephone started, checking on her veggies. The cauliflower, peppers, and onion were just beginning to brown. Almost time to start assembling the ziti. After draining the noodles, she checked her phone. No notifications. _Don’t be silly, Kore. Your friends are all busy living their own lives_. She tried to swallow down the bitter shame rising in her throat. _Did you really expect him to text? He spent several hours trying to fix your fuckup and feeding you. What more do you expect_? She set down her phone, turning up the volume on her speaker, trying to focus on the playful banter between the podcasters while she layered sauce, pasta, cheese, and vegetables in a pan. _You need to get better at handling loneliness, Kore_. 

After she packed away the leftovers and ate dinner in front of the television, Persephone resolved to run a bath. She might even use some of the bubble bath she had gotten for Christmas. Maybe she could even use a face mask. As Persephone set up a stool beside the tub with her laptop and a glass of wine, she congratulated herself. She had made self-care her bitch and, as a reward, she would send a few texts without guilt.

> Persephone: Would you like to get cocktails sometime this week? I’m off work for the next few days and need to stop by the library anyway. ☺️

Meg, as usual, responded within a few moments. 

> Meg: Sure, babe! I get off work at five tomorrow. 💜 OMG, do you need book reccs?! 😃
> 
> Persephone: That works for me! How nicely should I dress? I have no idea what the dress code is in this town. 😣 Lol, always!

Persephone spent a lot longer deliberating over the message she had been itching to type all day. Fifteen minutes into her bath, after many, many revisions she finally arrived at a satisfactorily neutral and friendly version. With a groan of apprehension she sent it with a terribly lit picture of her hand attached.

> Persephone: Hi Hades, thanks again for taking care of my hand. I think you may have missed your calling, lol. 😂 Thanks especially for lunch. It was delicious! I’ll make sure to include zucchini in your kitchen planting. ☺️ I hope you’re having a nice evening!

As a recompense for the sudden rush of anxiety thundering in her ears, Persephone navigated to Hearth and Home, one of her favorite cooking shows, and sank beneath the warm, sweetly-scented water with a wine glass in her hand. On screen, Hestia walked the viewer through the prep work of a strawberry-lemon cake she was making for a niece’s birthday. Persephone sipped contentedly at her wine, her anxiety numbed by the soothing comfort of the bath and bite of alcohol. Hestia, tossing her perfectly curled platinum hair behind her shoulder, leaned into the camera and suggested adding a little champagne to the recipe for a grown-up only version of the cake. 

Her phone buzzed and Persephone jumped, spilling a little bit of her wine into the bath. She took a deep breath, trying to crush the flutter of excitement in her chest. It’s not him. It’s probably just Meg sending a three-text-long list of books. All the same, she couldn’t help the lurch of disappointment when she pulled up her texts. 

> Missy🏹: Hey girl! I feel like we haven’t talked in ages! How is Virginia treating you? Eros said you were starting a business, how is it going? If you ever get bored of the backwater life, there’s always a place for you in NYC!! 

Persephone leaned back into the water with a sigh, typing out a reply. It was so rare for Artemis to have a moment to spare, might as well make the best of this. 

> Plant Gal🌱: Heya! It’s been nice. Lol, I like small-town life, but I’ll keep it in mind. 😉 Yep, I’m officially a landscaper. ☺️ It’s going well: I’m mostly doing designs for the city and a few of the nicer homes in the area. How is the journalist biz? Any less grueling?
> 
> Missy🏹: Ugh, I would die! Connecticut was enough for me, rotfl! Awesome! Have you done any poison gardens yet? They’re dope as hell. Girl, if it wasn’t grueling, I wouldn’t want to do it! It’s a lot, but I feel like I’m doing something important, you know? Though the press badge and late nights may be getting to my head, lol. Have you read any of my articles?
> 
> Plant Gal🌱: No poison gardens yet, but maybe someday! I’m so glad work is treating you well! I certainly couldn’t do all the pavement-pounding you do. 😉 I haven’t yet, I literally haven’t had an evening to myself in weeks, but I promise I will soon. Any I should start with? 
> 
> Missy🏹: I do investigative pieces mostly and I’m hoping to do more traveling and research. I wrote an article about a big game hunting reserve a few months ago that sparked some controversy on the net and one about this corrupt political family that got quite a few hits, so maybe start with those? Ya girl is internet famous! 
> 
> I’m going to Oregon in a few weeks to look at a fishing reserve and I might come to you with some environmental questions, lol. 

Persephone tapped out a quick reply, set her phone on the stool, and sank beneath the cooling water of her bath. With a sigh, she used her big toe to turn on the hot water tap, letting the heat wash over her like a blanket. If she ever got rich, the first thing she’d buy would be a gigantic garden tub and a lifetime supply of epsom salt and sweet-smelling soaps. She’d kill to have enough room to stretch her arms out like a bird in flight while she floated weightless in warm water. 

Artemis might never be satisfied until she chased down every adrenaline rush known to mankind and discovered a few along the way, but that kind of breathless sprint exhausted Persephone, even just through text. _Give me a life of simple pleasures, warm baths, good food, and someone to share them with_. She heaved a sigh and, against her better judgement, checked her text messages again. Artemis had sent her a link to her author page on the Times site, of course, and Hades still hadn’t replied. The next episode of Hearth and Home began to play and Hestia was detailing the kebabs she and her wife had made for a summer gala. Persephone groaned and sank beneath the surface of the warm water, letting the wet heat and ennui soak into every pore. 

The music throbbed around them and Eros ordered another round of drinks just as Artemis opened her mouth. “I just don’t get it! I was honest from the beginning that my studies and my career would take priority always.” She gestured wildly, almost knocking the whiskey she’d been nursing for the past hour off the edge of the table. “Did she really expect that I’d turn down the chance to study abroad just because she didn’t want to do long-distance?”

Psyche sipped on the last dregs of her mojito. “I suppose she hoped that she might become your priority.”

“Well of course it sounds obvious when a British person says it.”

Eros interjected, wrapping an arm around Psyche. “Hey, play nice. We’re all here because we love you and so are contractually obligated to buy you drinks after a breakup.”

Artemis grunted, swirling her glass and staring at the amber liquid as it sloshed and spun. “I just thought that Neamhan would understand. We’re both, y’know, driven people. I guess I hoped we would be some kind of power couple.” She took another long sip and set her glass down with a loud thunk. “Like, I’m super obvious about who I am from the drop. I might be a little bit of a bitch, but I say what I mean and I’m focused on my goals. Like, I care about people a lot. If I didn’t care about the world around me, I wouldn’t be so driven.” 

Persephone squeezed Artemis’ hand gently. “That’s what we love about you, Missy, and I’m sure that’s what drew Neamhan to you. But sometimes the thing a person admires about you ends up being the wedge between you.”

Their drinks arrived and Eros beamed at Persephone. “Okay, Sephie’s just dropping insight on us all.” He took a noisy sip of his Sex on the Beach before continuing. “Sometimes people just aren’t compatible. As similar as you were, you and Neamhan had different life goals. And you, Missy, have all the subtlety and ability to compromise of a lead balloon, so once your paths began to deviate, fracturing was a real possibility”

Artemis groaned, leaning forward to rest her face in her hands. “So everyone saw this coming but me?”

Persephone was beginning to regret offering to be the designated driver. The others would remember this interaction hazily, alcohol numbing the sting and ache of a fraught conversation in a way that her cranberry and pomegranate juice never could. So she rushed to dull Eros’ bluntness. “Missy, relationships look really different to the people outside of them. Just because we saw some potential for cracks in your relationship, it doesn’t mean you were doomed.”

“But you didn’t say anything.”

A rush of heat prickled against Persephone’s skin, anxiety spiking like a thousand tiny knives. “As long as you and Neamhan were happy, that’s all that mattered.”

“Well,” Artemis huffed, draining her whiskey in one gulp. “I would have appreciated some honesty.”

Psyche, quick to sense the shift in the mood, set down her mojito in a deliberate motion. “Would you have listened to us if we had mentioned any concerns, Artemis?”

Artemis growled. Psyche, for all her insight, was far less diplomatic once she started drinking. “That’s not the point.” She gestured widely with her glass. “If you were so insightful, you should have said something before I wasted my time with someone who wasn’t right for me.” Persephone opened her mouth to respond, but Artemis barreled on. “How did you guys just sit there smiling and playing nice while at the same time seeing all the signs on the wall so glaringly obvious to everyone but me?” 

She took another swig of amber liquid, turning her fevered gaze on Persephone. “These two I get: they’re too busy making eyes at each other to pay us mere mortals any time. But you should have said something; you’re supposed to be my best friend. I just don’t get you, Persephone.” Persephone shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her friend’s gaze. “But I suppose plastering a fake plastic smile on is second nature to you, being Mama’s little mascot and all.”

Eros growled, slamming his highball glass down with a calculated bang. “Enough, Artemis. This is the whiskey talking, not you. You need to apologize to Persephone.”

Artemis huffed, sliding back in her chair. “Whatever. Sorry, Persie.” She grumbled a little, avoiding eye contact with the table. “Great work trying to cheer me up, guys.”

“Artemis, you are hurt and we understand your feelings of betrayal, but lashing out at the people who care about you will not help you feel better in the long run.” Psyche stirred her drink passively, fishing out the little leaves of mint. “Perhaps, in hindsight, the gym would have been a better avenue of cheering you up.”

Persephone nodded, her hands clenched so tightly that the half-moon of her nails bit into her flesh. She could feel the heat of Eros’ concerned gaze on her face. Even a little drunk, he knew better than anyone how deeply Artemis’ words had wounded her. Was that really how her friend saw her: nothing more than the saccharine smile and hollow eyes of a billboard, a walking, talking advertisement? But she would not cry. Not now in this crowded bar that stank of alcohol and sweat with music that rattled her clenched teeth. She would school her expression into careful neutrality, eyebrows slightly lifted in an expression of concern. 

Persephone sighed, sitting up in the once again in the lukewarm water of the tub, scrubbing at her face. God, she was tired. In her own way, Artemis had been right all those years ago. She had spent twenty years cultivating the facade of the perfect student, perfect daughter, perfect friend. In truth, it was pitifully easy: as long as she acted the way people expected, they didn’t bother to dig much deeper. And that was fine, until her veneer cracked and the world spun out of her control. 

Persephone closed her laptop, blowing out the candles, pulling out the drain plug, and stepped out of the tub. She went about her evening routine, making shy eye contact with herself through the haze on the mirror and smiling half-heartedly at the encouraging note she had stuck in the corner when she first moved in. It was a kind gift, so Persephone cherished it. A little part of her cringed at how cliche " _You don’t exist for the comfort of others_ " sounded, but Psyche’s beautiful sloping cursive gave depth, even if undeserved, to the platitude. On impulse, Persephone drew a smiley face in the steam clouding the mirror, grinning self-consciously before trudging off to bed. As she drifted off to sleep, in those quiet moments when she was least guarded against the truth, she meditated on the brightness of Hades’ smile and the way he had curved his body protectively around her injured hand. 

Persephone adjusted the straps of her yellow dress, glanced at her makeup in her rear-view mirror, and double-checked her messages. 

Meg: I’m here! I grabbed a table outside. Don’t know your order, so hurry over before I get too much of a lead on you! 🤣

She typed out a quick response to Meg and tucked her phone into her purse with a little sigh of disappointment. Hades still hadn’t replied. He had read her message at 10:11 in the evening, but he hadn’t even responded with a dog picture or a reaction. It wasn’t like him to leave her hanging. _Maybe I offended him yesterday?_ He didn’t seem too upset about her gigantic blunders during their last conversation, but then again, he was incredibly gracious and polite. She couldn’t shake the feeling that her clumsy teasing had trampled the tender shoots of whatever was growing between them. 

Persephone stepped out of her car, skin warmed by the the spring sunshine. She hurried to the patio seating of the incredibly bougie eatery Meg had picked, wobbly heels forcing her to be mindful of every little imperfection in the pavement. As she climbed the concrete steps, she finally spotted Meg and waved. 

Meg squealed, brandishing her piña colada with one hand. “Persephone! Oh my god, you look so cute!” The librarian was head to toe in perfect vintage fashion: her crisp striped blouse and navy skirt accented by a jaunty broach pinned on the neckline. After taking another sip of her drink, she set it down on the table and jumped up to give Persephone a tight squeeze, her lavender twists bouncing like they had a mind of their own. 

Persephone looped her bag across the back of her chair and sat down. “Thanks, Meg. I love your outfit!”

“Thanks!” Meg tapped her broach with a proud grin. “I found this little gem in a pawn shop a few years ago. It’s snakes interwoven in a gordian knot. I’m pretty sure it was made in the sixties.” Persephone realized the little amber gemstones were the eyes of at least five snakes. “I’m glad you’re finally taking a break! I can’t believe I haven’t seen you in weeks!"

“Wow, it’s beautiful. What a lucky find!” Persephone shifted a little in her chair. “Yeah, work has been busy! I guess word got around about the children’s garden.”

“Hell yeah!” Meg took a big bite of the pineapple slice that garnished her drink. “The children’s wing has been busy all this month, which is really unusual before spring break. A ton of patrons have asked about it, I’m almost out of the business cards you gave me.”

Persephone giggled, glancing over the drinks menu. “Aww, that’s sweet, Meg. Honestly, I don’t think I can take on any more clients. I’m running around like a chicken with its head cut off as it is.”

Meg grimaced. “Ew.” She leaned across the table, trying to peek over the edge of the menu. “What’s your poison this evening?”

Persephone hummed. “Probably the Sangria.” She snorted at Meg’s quizzical look. “I’m a simple woman! Wine is good, wine with fruit is even better.” Meg took a sip of piña colada, shaking her head. Persephone closed the menu with an exaggerated snap. “Oh, hush, you snob. Sangria is great. Besides, those in glass houses shouldn’t judge other’s drink of choice.”

Meg cackled. “Ah yes, that famous aphorism.” A waiter stopped by their table and Persephone gave her order. Meg twined her fingers together, feigning disinterested conversation. “You mentioned you needed to stop by the library. We both know you don’t have fines.” She set her chin on her interlaced hands, her eyes wide, smile wider. “So dish! What are you reading?”

“I’ve been on a bit of a sci-fi kick lately, mostly reading old favorites. You know, Ursula K. Le Guin, Phillip K. Dick, the standbys.” 

“Does this mean what I think it means?”

Persephone giggled. “Always.”

Meg inhaled deeply. “Okay, so I might have prepared something. Have you read any of the _Binti_ trilogy?”

“Only the first one.” Persephone raised her hands. “In my defense, it was my freshman year of college and I was a little busy.”

“Well, you should definitely finish it, it’s excellent. Have you ever heard of _The Fifth Season_? It’s part of another great series. Of course, if you want standalone stories, I have a few of those on my list.”

Persephone sighed. “Honestly, Meg, I’m not sure I have the spare brain space to devote to a series. Maybe a standalone novel?”

“Oh, well, then I think I have the perfect thing for you. Lesley Nneka Arimah has an incredible short story collection I think you’d love: _What It Means When a Man Falls from the Sky_. It definitely is more to the speculative side of sci-fi, but I think you’ll love it. Each story has so much depth and the whole collection is amazing. You have to read it so we can talk about it over drinks next time.”

“Ooh, that sounds interesting! Thanks for the recommendation!”

“Of course! I can even do one better.” Meg whipped a slim hardcover out of her purse. “I went ahead and checked it out. If you didn’t want it, I was thinking of rereading it.” She set it on the table and frowned. “Oh, sorry, is that too much?”

Persephone smiled, picking up the book and turning it over in her hands. “Not at all, Meg! I really appreciate it.” She met her friend’s worried gaze with a reassuring grin. “I’ll let you know if you overwhelm me, but honestly, you make me feel welcome.”

Meg breathed out a sigh, leaning back in her chair. “Oh, thank god. I didn’t want to pressure you, I just get really excited about books.”

The waiter set a glass of sangria in front of Persephone and she thanked him before turning back to the librarian. “Really, I never would have guessed.” The girls giggled into their drinks, both taking a little sip, enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon. Persephone’s phone dinged and she jumped, nearly spilling her drink. “Sorry, Meg, I forgot to silence it.”

“No biggie, I actually should post something to the library Nymphsta.”

Persephone rummaged in her purse. Shit, it better not be Mama. It’s only been a day since we last talked, though. But it would be just like her to check up on me at the worst of times. She unlocked her phone and, with a rush of warmth and happiness that flitting in her stomach, she saw that Hades had sent her two messages and a photo of Russell snuggled up against the bulk of Big John’s back. 

> Hades: It was absolutely no trouble: I hope your recovery is going well. Perhaps I should give medicine a try if this whole funeral business goes “bottoms up.” 
> 
> That’s very kind. I look forward to cooking with ingredients from the garden. I hope you have a lovely evening. 

“Ooooh, Persephone, careful. If you smile much wider your face might get stuck like that.”

Persephone blushed, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. “Oh, sorry, Meg. I got a text from a friend.”

“Hmm. I’m no expert, but I don’t think I’ve ever smiled that widely at a text from a friend. Cat pictures, smut, messages from hotties, yes, but never for a friendly text. And,” she slurped loudly at her drink. “judging from your embarrassed reaction, it’s either smut or a text from someone you fancy.”

“Nope. he’s just a friend,” Persephone blurted out far too quickly.

“Oooh, what’s this friend’s name? I can look him up on Nymphsta and see what I think.”

Persephone snorted, almost inhaling her sangria. “I seriously doubt he has a Nymphstagram. He’s not the social media type.” 

“It is the second millennium, Persephone, I don’t know anyone without a presence on at least one social media outlet.”

“Well… maybe a LampdIn.”

“What’s this mystery man’s name?”

“Hades Klymenos.” The name rolled off her tongue with practiced ease. 

“Yeah, there’s only one of those. Is this your ‘friend’?” Meg turned her phone around and Persephone nodded, the flush spreading down her neck. Meg squinted at her phone screen. “Oh, he’s really cute for a blonde. If you’re into guys that look kinda intimidating and grumpy.” 

Persephone covered her face with her hands. “Can we move on, please? Hades is just a friend.” She peeked through her fingers. “And for the record, he is cute, period. I don’t see what his hair color has to do with attractiveness.”

“AHA!” Meg crowed in triumph, sloshing her piña colada onto the table. “You do like him!”

“I liked this much better when we were talking about books,” Persephone groaned, steeling herself for an hour of boy talk. 

Luckily, Meg moved on fairly quickly after teasing Persephone for another five minutes. They ordered a few appetizers and talked town business, library gossip, and television shows. All in all, Persephone thoroughly enjoyed herself and walked to her car feeling warm and happy. But maybe that was the sangria. On a whim, she pulled into the grocery store and dashed in to grab some walnuts, honey, clove, and ingredients for her homemade phyllo dough. _Surely a thank you baklava wasn’t too excessive of a gesture between friends?_


	9. Austere and Lonely Offices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades begins the long and arduous task of restoring the funeral home, all the while trying to keep his mind from wandering to thoughts of a certain gardener.
> 
> Title from the poem "Those Winter Sundays" by Robert Hayden
> 
> My greatest thanks and all of my love to my dear partner and editor. Life is so much sweeter with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Sorry for the long delay: the beginning of the fall semester always increases my workload a little and I was a little under the weather. To thank you all for your incredible patience, this chapter is a little longer than usual. I hope you enjoy! :)

The poorly paved road—more pothole than pavement—jostled his wheels and, with every ping of ricocheting rubble against the steel frame, Hades’ brows drew lower, his lips pressed more tightly together, and the foul mood that had shrouded him since his all-too early morning deepened. _At least I didn’t take the Aston_. He probably should have sold the cars, but they were the one little luxury he allowed himself to bring to Virginia. _And now the BMW is paying the price for my vanity_. 

Hades slowed to a crawl in the still-unfamiliar streets, glancing down at his phone GPS for guidance. The home Morena Provazník had lived in until her death at the ripe old age of eighty-three was situated outside the Perdition city limits, which was immediately apparent in the quality, or lack thereof, of the general upkeep of public roads. The pavement was cracked and ridden with potholes. Little tufts of grass and the occasional brightly blossoming weed sprouted from the cracked asphalt. Not to be outdone, the dense leafy undergrowth beneath the sparse trees was beginning to encroach on the cold, dead surface. The area had a sort of wild, stubborn beauty that Hades would have been completely blind to just months earlier. 

Another right, a left, and he was idling in front of what his realtor insisted on calling ‘The Old Provazník Place’ with the kind of awe usually reserved for the cottages of particularly grim Germanic witches. Hecate, of course, had already parked on the long dirt drive and was leaning against her Lexus, smoking contemplatively. As Hades got out of his car, fighting the urge to check the damage to his poor BMW’s body, Hecate walked over to him. “So you’re really leaning in to the whole Addams Family aesthetic, huh?” 

The home had probably been built early in the last century, though Hades was no expert, and it had clearly seen better days. The white paint has been weathered to a patchy, stormy grey that was peeling free from the boards in ribbons, the window casings all along the turret were broken, shingles tattered, and the decorative trim on the porch needed to be replaced wholesale. It must have been impressive in its heyday, but decades with little to no upkeep made the veritable mansion look like a funeral home, but not in a good way. Hades ran a hand through his hair, grimacing and wishing he had added a little bit of scotch to his coffee. “It’s a fixer-upper, Hecate, but it’s all I could afford.” 

“Hm.” Hecate tapped a finger against her teeth. “Well, it’s got good bones. And if the funereal business doesn’t live up to your expectations,” she flashed a sly grin up at her grumpy friend, “you’d make a killing as the operator of a haunted house.”

Hades grumbled while he shoved his hand into his left pocket, fishing for his keys. “I haven’t had enough coffee to indulge your humor, Hecate.” He strode ahead, picking his way between the weeds and broken paving stones, before tentatively setting one foot on the porch steps. They creaked ominously, but held his weight. Hades looked over his shoulder at Hecate, who hung back by the cars, arms crossed, smirking infuriatingly at him. Hades shot a retort before unlocking the chipped front door. “And as my business partner, that would make you the main attraction.” 

He stepped through the door without a backwards glance. Hecate snorted, stubbing out her cigarette beneath her shiny pumps. “Love you too, asshole.”

Luckily, the interior of the house was in better shape than the run-down exterior. It was cool and damp, sunlight trickling through the windows in almost solid clouds of dust motes. Most of the furniture and all the photos must have been sold in the estate sale, but Hades could see the shadow of furniture in the way dust had settled on the hardwood floor and the dark outline of framed photographs against the faded wallpaper. The house creaked a little, wind whistling in through a broken windowpane. Hades felt like an intruder, witnessing the echoes of a life he would never be able to understand. It was like being in a room with a dead body, the cold, inscrutable thing that remained when light faded from the eyes. No, Hades decided with a little shudder, it was like being in the body: standing beneath the vaulted ceiling of the ribcage as it began to decay.

“Hey, you okay? You’ve gone broody.” 

He shook off the gloom with a self-conscious start. “Yeah, sorry. Rough night.”

Hecate leaned against the banister of the stairs: a daring choice, but it held her weight without complaint. “I gathered that from the texts. Cerberus would have done a better job typing them.” Her teasing was warm and welcome in this still place. “Do you need to talk?”

Hades shook his head. “Right now, all I want to do is get a good idea of what we’re working with.”

Hecate fell into step beside him as he made his way back to the kitchen. “So this is your first time in the house?”

“First detailed walkthrough. The realtor only showed me a few rooms, but I have all the blueprints.” 

“Mmm.” Hecate’s eyes were bright, calculating. 

The pair walked from the expansive living room, past the wooden staircase, through a short hallway to what must have been a sitting room. The front of the room curved outward slightly, the three windows facing out of the turret like sightless eyes on the overgrown garden. The hardwood floor was scratched and dull, bright green wallpaper peeling along the moulding. “I was thinking about using this room for viewings,” Hades broke the stillness floating around them like dust motes. “It has a lot of light and it would be fairly easy to install a small filtration unit in the corner.”

“Natural light isn’t great for viewings, so you might want to stick some rose-colored film on the windows.” Hecate stepped into the center of the room, turning slowly around, eyes darting every which way. “The room has good flow. And since it’s on the first floor, it will be fairly accessible.” She faced Hades again, a slight smile dancing across her lips. “I like it. It’s quiet and serene.” Hecate tucked a strand of her razor-sharp bob behind one ear, tapping her toe against the wood. “With the right layout and decor, we can easily make this room feel like a sacred place.”

Hades nodded. “That’s the idea.”

“So where will we prepare the bodies?”

Hades scrubbed his face with a hand. “There’s the problem. The living room is huge, the sitting room is just large enough to do viewings and a medium sized funeral, but besides the kitchen, the only other room on this floor is about the size of a walk-in closet with a bathroom.”

“I’m guessing we don’t want to move the body up stairs.” Hecate paced the room, tapping on the wall. “So offices will be upstairs, prep and viewing downstairs.”

“I was thinking of turning the bedroom into waiting room and walling off the living room to be the prep room.”

“The kitchen might work better.”

“I’ll remove one of the walls and reduce the size of the kitchen, but you and I need a staff break room.”

Hecate groaned. “Goddess, Hades. This sounds expensive as fuck.”

“I’m planning on doing a fair amount of the grunt work myself. I’ve already gotten quotes from a local plumber and it seems reasonable.”

“맙소사!” Hecate punched his arm playfully. “I don’t see you for a year and you turn into Bob the Builder.”

Hades grumbled, secretly pleased.

Hecate crossed her arms, tapping a finger against her chin thoughtfully. “Okay, but where will we fit the cold storage and retorts?”

“I think we have enough room if you factor in about 250 square feet from the kitchen to install a refrigeration unit and turn it into a prep area. I had thought of setting up the retorts in the basement, but I’m not sure that’s the best idea.” Hades exhaled heavily. “I would like to perform witness cremations and I don’t like the liability risks of coaxing aging matriarchs down unsteady basement stairs.” 

“Fair.”

“There’s a detached garage outside, so I was thinking we could fix it up and put one retort out there to begin with.”  
Hecate nodded, brow furrowed. “Well, it looks like we have our work cut out for us, partner.”

Hades smiled sheepishly, half trepidation, half excitement: “Indeed we do, partner.”

“Cerberus, baby, don’t look at me like that.” Cerberus huffed, flopping over on his side away from Hades. Russell was dancing around Hades’ feet, weaving in between his legs, panting happily. Hades wove his way carefully to the fridge, opening the door with one elbow while balancing all the bowls with practiced ease. Raw chicken for Cerberus, Big John, Fudge, and Russell, rice and cooked chicken for J. P. and Cordon Bleu, herring for Mushroom, and eggs and vegetables for all. “I’m practically a zookeeper to a pack of pampered wolves.” 

Russell and Mushroom had followed him into the kitchen and sat patiently, waiting for their incredibly early dinner. Well, Russell was trying to sit still, but he was wiggling his stumpy tail so much that he was vibrating. Hades chuckled, chopping carrots and spinach. “You are such good boys.”

Mushroom yawned and stretched out on the floor. “I know, baby, it’s early.” He glanced at his watch: 5:30. _Persephone couldn’t realistically arrive for another hour or so_. “Trust me, boys, it’s better this way.”

Russell borked, eyes laser-focused on the boiled eggs Hades was placing in each bowl. “She still has her whole life ahead of her, god knows the last thing she wants or needs is a bitter old bastard like me.” Mushroom whimpered, a surprisingly high-pitched sound for such a large dog. Hades tucked an errant strand of hair behind his ear, adding finding a barber to his mental to-do list. “You’re right, Shroomy. I do like spending time with her. I just don’t think it’s the best for either of us right now.”

Cerberus whined from the other room. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Cerberus.”

He turned back to the task at hand, dividing out the raw chicken pieces between the bowls, checking to make sure each dog had enough bones and liver. “I’m sorry to get you guys up this early, but at least you can go out and see Persephone now that the palms are out.” 

Persephone had been back at work for nearly three days after her short vacation and Hades had been consciously avoiding her. He left apologetic notes on the porch the first few days, but then hoped his absence had become the status quo. It was fine. Hades spent his days at the funeral home, working on the demolition and meeting contractors, and generally trying to keep busy from 6ish in the morning to after eight. He would come home at the end of the day, covered in plaster, dust, and wood shavings, and each time he pulled into the drive he felt a little pang of disappointment that Persephone’s car was no longer there. Hopefully that too would fade in time. He would be fine. 

Dawn’s delicate rose fingers were just beginning to brush the top of the trees as Hades pulled out of his winding drive. The dogs had gorged themselves like dying men, Mushroom and Cordon Bleu were in their crates, the rest draped across his furniture, and on a whim, he left the door unlocked with a hastily scrawled note to Persephone. Hades turned on the radio, tapping his fingers idly on the steering wheel as the dark woods rolled past. _Why does this always feel like sneaking away after a one-night stand?_

There was only one road that led from Perdition to his home. Hades knew someday that he’d oversleep and Persephone would pass him on the road. He couldn’t miss that ugly box of a car she drove and she sure as hell would recognize him instantly. Not many folks drove BMWs, even as battered as his had become, in Perdition. Would their eyes meet for an electric instant: his ashamed, hers betrayed? Or worse, would she just look ahead blankly, completely unaffected by a moment that would haunt him for weeks? 

He hit the first stop sign just as the song changed on the radio to something terribly eighties and upbeat. Hades groaned and rummaged in the console for his battered case of CDs. He had begun collecting tapes when he was young and the impulse had evolved slowly over the years. For some goddamn reason, the first few sleeves were full of all his old college mix-tapes. Old habits and all that, I guess. He idled for a few minutes at the sign, debating over which CD suited the commute. He’d been listening to a lot of Fleetwood Mac lately: it was easy listening and Stevie Nick’s voice always filled a room with a comfortable kind of sadness. He glimpsed distant headlights in his rear-view mirror and decided to fuck cozy nostalgia. Radiohead would be fine. 

“Alright, spill.” Hecate stowed her putty knife in the front pocket of her paint-splattered obsidian overalls, leaning against the wall. When Hades continued to work away at the wallpaper she placed a hand against the curling free edge of the green damask paper, stopping him in his tracks. 

Hades growled, wiping away the sweat that threatened to drip into his safety glasses. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, Hecate, but I happen to be in the middle of something.” He had arrived at the worksite before dawn, Hecate shortly after, and they had spent the morning stripping the wallpaper from the living room. They had moved on to the sitting room and, even though it was past noon, they were only a third of the way done. 

“Nice try, but not good enough.” Hecate was one of the few people Hades had met with a particular tone of voice both brusque and caring. “I know something’s up. Every time I see you, you’re miles away.” She leaned her shoulder against the wall, gazing up at him, brow wrinkled in worry. “I’ve tried giving you space, but now I’m thinking that maybe you just need to open up.”

“Is that your professional opinion, old friend?” He forced a chuckle, spreading his arms wide. Between his forced levity and the implied challenge of the statement, he hoped Hecate would back off the line of questioning. 

“Yeah, actually.” _Fuck_.

Hades groaned, setting down the pressure sprayer and crossing his arms. “Okay, fine. What do you want to talk about?”

“Is it the business? Because if all this construction is too much, we can hire more contractors.” She held up her hands defensively at Hades’ sounds of protest. “I know you were adamant to just keep contractors to tasks you couldn’t do yourself, but I’m happy to pitch in.” She cracked a slight smile. “Not to brag, but my last book did pretty damn well. I’ve got quite the nest egg.”

It took a moment for the gravity of Hecate’s statement to sink in and when it did, the warm rush of affection for his dear, loyal friend spread through Hades’ chest like a wildfire. He blinked rapidly, fighting to keep his voice steady, “Hecate, thank you, but I’d never—“

She held up a hand, silencing him. “I know you’d never ask me to help you financially, which is why I’m offering.”

“That’s very kind of you, but it isn’t the work.” Hades rubbed the back of his neck, smiling ruefully down at the little flakes of plaster covering his t-shirt. “I like working with my hands, honestly. It’s a nice change.”

“Alright. If it isn’t the business that’s bothering you, what is it?” She stared levelly at him and, as if she had caught a whiff of singularly rancid roadkill, the corners of her mouth turned down in disgust. Hades could have sworn she muttered a particularly foul expletive under her breath in Korean. “Oh Goddess, tell me it isn’t Minthe.”

Hades started. “What? No! We’re finished.” At Hecate’s skeptical look, he elaborated, a flush rising to his cheeks with each disjointed sentence he babbled. “I blocked her from my phone, social media, and all other accounts two weeks ago. She’s called since then, of course, but I’m done.”

“Hades, that’s never stopped you getting back together in the past.” Hecate’s tone was gentle, but the words still caused Hades’ hackles to rise. 

“I’m done for good this time.” He looked away from Hecate to the fireplace on the far wall, trying to choke down the anger rising in his throat. “After all these years, you know what finally did it?” Hecate shook her head, eyes wide. “She didn’t even call for days after the accident, you know. When she did, she didn’t even ask how I was, it was just a fifteen minute sales pitch to try and convince me to use her firm to pass the blame onto the engineers. Zeus apparently called Thetis for damage control minutes after it happened.” Tears again stung in his eyes, hot and angry this time. “Did you know I was planning on proposing? I had a ring and everything. I was going to do it at that Italian restaurant she liked by the Capitol the evening after…” He trailed off, ducking his head to regain his composure. 

Hecate placed a hand on his shoulder, and when Hades leaned into her touch, she drew him into a tight hug. “Oh, Hades. I didn’t know.”

The friends broke apart after a long moment and Hades stooped to pick up the pressure sprayer. He straightened and let out a deep sigh. “We’re both better off this way.” Hades shrugged, his bitter smile somewhat undermining his shrug. “The proposal was a Hail Mary, anyway. At least, now that we aren’t living in the same city, she’ll forget about me and move on.” He began peeling the damp wallpaper from the wall. “God knows she threatened to enough times.”

“She didn’t deserve you, Hades.” Hecate began to score along the next section of the wallpaper, standing on her tiptoes to reach up to the moulding. 

“I know.”

Hecate froze, scoring tool stretched out in front of her, her head slowly turning to face Hades. “What?”

Hades arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean, ‘what’?”

“In all the years you’ve been together with Minthe, you have never once admitted that you were the one settling in the relationship.” 

Hades gestured with the pressure sprayer. “Yes I have. Loads of times.”

“Like hell you have.” Hecate brandished the round scoring tool like a fencing iron. “Every time you two did the same on-again-off-again dance, you would always say things like ‘we just make each other unhappy,’ something about your ‘work-life balance’ or that your ‘careers are taking us along different trajectories.’”

“I fail to see your point, Hecate.” The back of Hades’ neck prickled uncomfortably and he longed to reach up and scratch it, but Hecate’s gaze was fixed on him with laser-bright intensity. Such an obvious tell would give away what he desperately wanted to keep hidden.

Hecate took a step toward his, eyebrow cocked. “What’s their name, Hades?”

The crimson blush slowly creeping up his neck betrayed him, but Hades soldiered on valiantly. “Hecate, that’s ridiculous. Just because I recognize that Minthe and I were always a, um, highly volatile combination does not mean I’m seeing anyone.”

“Hades, I love you like a brother—well, a cousin—but it would take more than a move and a few bad conversations for you to see how toxic Minthe was.” Hecate smiled wickedly, her bob swaying slightly as she tilted her head. “Is it someone you met online or someone in town?”

Hades growled, hoping his frustration might dissuade Hecate. “If you’re finished, we have a lot of work to get done today.”

Hecate cackled, throwing her head back. “Aha! So it’s somebody in town!”

Hades turned back to the wallpaper, spraying a fresh section with the vinegar and water mixture, muttering darkly. He could feel the weight of Hecate’s eyes on him. “Even if your wild conjecture were true, Hecate, I hardly think now is the time or place to chat about boys and braid each other’s hair.”

“Hmm, so it’s a guy? Hermes is fairly cute, Hephaestus is pretty good with his hands,” Hecate waggled her eyebrows suggestively and Hades snorted despite himself. “Oh, there’s also that forestry agent I’ve seen around town: Pan, or Puck, or something.”

Hades grumbled. 

“You need to at least tell me if I’m warm.”

Regretting it even as it left his mouth, Hades muttered, “frigid.”

Hecate’s head snapped towards him, gaze locked on his. “Is it a girl?”

Hades bent over the wallpaper, trying to hide the blush spreading across his cheeks. “No.”

Hecate stepped closer, focused on her prey. “I see. The local sheriff, Alecto, is a little blonde and scary for you, but I can see it.” She tapped a finger against her chin, “There’s also Clotho, though falling for the local OB-GYN is a little too Hallmark for your tastes. I know Laima has been on the prowl and you’re definitely her type.” At Hades’ silence, Hecate grinned wider. “I can keep doing this all day, Klymenos, and then we’ll get nothing done.”

“Fine.” He grumbled, tearing away a chunk of wallpaper. “Kore.”

Hecate frowned in confusion. “Huh?”

Hades turned to her, skin flushed crimson, eyes glittering. “If it will keep you from badgering me: you’re right, Hecate. There is someone.” He was not encouraged by the stunned silence from his friend. He began to twist the section of wallpaper between his fingers, maintaining eye contact and speaking levelly despite the anxiety gnawing at his gut. “It’s Kore, um, Persephone De Metre. Obviously nothing can come of it.” He swallowed, shifting his body to face the wall again. He couldn’t bear to see the pity crossing Hecate’s face, wanted to avoid her gentle sympathy for the impossible dream he harbored despite himself, despite everything. “Can we get some work done? It’s nearly two and we should have started on another room by now.”

Hecate was silent for a long moment. Hades could imagine the pity in her eyes. It was the deepest and cruelest irony that his dreams of loving and being loved in return owed everything to a woman he could never have. What could she say in response to such an admission? “Eh, I see it.”

Hades tore a strip of wallpaper away with a sudden jerk. “What?” He turned to face Hecate with a grim scowl. “Hecate, if that was a joke, it was in terribly poor taste.”

“Hades, I’m not joking.” He crossed his arms and she continued, eyes locked on his. “To be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t have guessed it. She’s a little younger than you usually go for, but she’s smart, kind, and endearingly nerdy. I can see why you like her.” 

“Hecate, she’s a student, she should be with people her own age. She deserves someone with a future, who she can enjoy life with and who will relate to her, not someone old enough to be her father.”  
Hecate shot him a withering look. “Okay, first, she’s twenty-four, Hades, and she was in an accelerated Master’s program at Smith. I think Persephone is capable of making her own decisions.” 

Embarrassment stung at his cheeks like cold fire. He had supposed she was younger. _Maybe I don’t know Persephone as well as I thought_. “I assume there’s more?”

“You assume correctly.” Hecate tapped a finger against her crossed arms, weighing her options. “But this a conversation we can have while working, if that’s easier. I know you want to finish this sometime today.”

So they began their tasks again: Hades steaming the wallpaper with a hot water and vinegar mixture, Hecate using her scoring tool on the dark green paper. After a few moments in silence, Hecate began to speak in the low, hypnotic way that signaled the beginnings of a lecture. “In the early days of Rome’s experimentation with Christianity, doctrine was quite a bit more malleable than you would think. There was a sect of devotees of the faith that believed that perfect holiness could only be achieved by transcending the impurity of the body.”

Hades frowned. “I appreciate the history lesson, old friend, but I’m struggling to see its relevance to my predicament. I already know your feelings on organized religion.”

She shot him an annoyed glance. “Yes, but you at least are clearly steeped in the tradition of Christian guilt. Just listen.” Her hands moved hypnotically over the damask wallpaper, scoring tool leaving pinpricks in the pattern. “This school of thought, better known as Gnosticism, quite possibly pre-dated Christianity, but it was deemed heretical once the Catholic church began to police and condemn alternative schools of thought. But no matter how heretical the ideas, traces of the Gnostic impulse remained stubbornly interwoven with mainstream practice: the belief that holiness can only be achieved by walling yourself off from the world, shuttering yourself away in cramped, ascetic cells, and even flagellating and punishing the body. The idea that you must endure pain unflinchingly, deny yourself the things you need, the thing your soul cries out for, is so very Catholic of you, Hades.”

“I was raised Greek Orthodox, Hecate.”

“Still.” Hecate rolled her eyes and began once again with a little more iron in her voice. “You and I both know, Hades, that you were not built for the monastic life. It isn’t good for anyone. most of all you, especially after the crash.”

He flinched; she was usually more careful about raising the subject. He mustered his defenses and retaliated.

“Not true; I’ve been more focused-“

She interrupted him by stepping forward and gripping his shoulders. Her grip was warm—the touch of the dearest of friends—but the steel in her eyes and the pressure on his shoulders was enough to squeeze the air out of his excuses.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me that you’re doing better emotionally, physically, or hell, spiritually now than you were before you moved away from your work and your roomy apartment and froze out Poseidon, Athena, Hera, and even me. I dare you.”

Hades looked around him at the funeral home, which more and more often had felt like his own grave, embellished with crumbling plaster and chintzy wallpaper. He looked down at the hands of his oldest friend and drew in a shuddering breath. _Hecate’s hands are the closest thing I’ve had to a woman touching me in any meaningful way and with any warmth in… Christ, too long to admit without wanting to curl up into a fetal position._ His gaze drifted to the floor and he thought about his poor dogs, stressed, bored, and worried about their master, woken up too early then locked in cages that were too small in a house that was too small.

And then, just as suddenly as she had blundered into his arms and his life, Persephone burst into his mind. He thought about the way she gestured passionately when she talked about plants, how her hair always seemed a little wild and just as expressive as her, the way her smile lit up every corner of that too-dark concrete house. Persephone had made all those problems seem…smaller. More distant. Sometimes when she looked at him, brown-green eyes soft and wide, he felt like he was actually capable of pulling off all these wild dreams of his. And how when he looked back at her and she smiled, he believed he could do anything.

Hades felt his shoulders slump and became aware that Hecate’s strong grip was doing most of the work to keep him standing.

“Are you saying I made the wrong choice?” The fragility and softness of his voice surprised him.

Hecate placed a slim hand upon his face. “Not at all. I know you’ll do wonderfully once you have everything in order. But how can you possibly think you can attend to the needs of the dead when you neglect even the most basic imperatives of the living?”

The former lawyer, future undertaker, and current work in progress was silent.

“…so you think I should ask Persephone out on a date?”

Hecate pulled her hand away with a groan. “For fuck’s sake, you’re such a man.” She let out a chuckle and playfully punched his arms. “If that’s what helps you pull yourself out of this funk, go for it.”

He arrived home after sunset again, the fading light not doing much to hide the fact that both car and owner were a little worse for wear. Against the darkening night sky, his house seemed all angles and hulking weight for something so cramped and uncomfortable, but the amber glow from the windows made it look less menacing than usual. Persephone must have left a few lights on for the dogs. Hades unfolded himself out of the car, wincing at the soreness in his back. I can’t keep going like this. I’m not twenty anymore. 

The yammering and howls of a pack of hungry dogs pierced the stillness of the evening and Hades hurried to the back door, rummaging for his keys before remembering it would still be unlocked. As he stepped forward, his foot brushed against something solid nestled against the door. Hades started and jumped back, half expecting to see a rabid raccoon seconds away from sinking its teeth into his calf. It was only a pink box. 

Heart pounding in his ears, Hades bent down, squinting in the half-light. It wasn’t a box, it looked like a small cooler with a little card attached to the top. The pale orange light filtering through the french doors was barely enough to see by, so Hades felt for his glasses and put them on before opening the card. He read it once, then re-read nearly a dozen times. Cerberus ambled over and pressed his face against the glass, but Hades couldn’t tear himself away from the flowing cursive script:

> I know you think celebrations are frivolous, but you’ve been working so hard lately and you deserve to treat yourself. Hard work is always worth celebrating. :)
> 
> Kore
> 
>   
>  p.s. I also included some peanut butter biscuits in a baggie for the dogs. I don’t think baklava is dog-friendly. 

He cracked open the cooler, swallowing hard to try and rid himself of the lump in his throat. _Fuck, this smells heavenly. I can’t believe she made something for me. God, I’m such an ass_. And then, certainly not for the first time today and perhaps not for the last time, Hades felt his heart skip a beat. She had wrapped each individual slice of delicious, honey-scented baklava in magenta paper printed with rabbits. He laughed softly to himself, closing the lid of the cooler gently and cradling it in his arms like something immensely powerful. He opened to door to a cacophony of barks and whining, smiling so hard it hurt. _I’ll thank her and send her a picture of the dogs with their treats, maybe a photo of the baklava. Hecate is right. I’ll ask her tomorrow._


	10. Morning Glories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last, planting day has arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience, all! I know it's been a long wait, but hopefully this fluffy chapter will make up for it. :) Thank you all for reading and special thanks to the lovely Miss_Understood for her choice music suggestions. 
> 
> As ever, I owe a debt of gratitude to my dear frost giant for reading over this and helping me prune the story just a bit.

_Oh my god, he’s going to think I’m so fucking desperate_. Persephone had spent nearly fifteen minutes trying to herd the dogs indoors, turned on a few lights, and closed the french doors softly behind her. Now all that remained was finding the perfect spot for the cooler, if she would leave it at all. Despite all the hours she had spent rolling out phyllo to the perfect thinness, mixing chopped nuts and spice, and drizzling each delicate layer with honey, anxiety churned in Persephone’s gut like she was thirteen years old and handing a homemade valentine to her crush. Not that she had done that, of course, but she imagined the dizziness and prickling of fear and anticipation were roughly the same.

It was almost officially spring, and the day had been pleasantly cool and sunny, so she had left the back door open while she prepped the beds. While she knelt in the dirt, sifting compost, soil, and the occasional earthworm through her fingers, the dogs had spent the day running outside, slinking back in, dashing outside again to monitor the situation—in Russell’s case, that meant trying to steal the container of fish emulsion and nearly covering himself in stinking fish juice—darting inside, and finally plodding outside to sleep in the sun. Cerberus spent half of the day dozing within a foot of her, snoring companionably. 

She got the sense that the pack was lonely, but perhaps she was projecting. Persephone hadn’t seen him since the sago palm debacle. The morning of her first day back he had pinned a note to the door written in a hand so spidery that Persephone questioned yet again if he should have been a doctor. Since then, the master of the house was nowhere to be found. His scant communication had been cordial enough that she didn’t think she had offended him, he had even used his typical typed emoticons, but she felt a distance between them growing by the day. She got the distinct impression that he was trying to avoid her. To be fair, their interactions were usually limited to a wave and hello, sometimes even a short conversation, and if she were very lucky, a few texts and dog photos, but those brief moments spent with Hades were often the highlight of her day. 

About halfway through rolling the tenth sheet of phyllo—cursing herself for not buying the store-made baklava, as if Hades weren’t someone worth pulling out her grandmother’s recipe and spending hours cooking for—Persephone had to accept what her heart already knew: she was actually pretty fucking desperate about Hades Klymenos. 

Persephone set the cooler down by the door, turning it a jaunty 45 degrees and then leaning back to observe the effect. “Mm, no, this is thank you baklava, not ‘take me, I’m yours’ baked goods." She bent over, straightening the cooler. _But I mean, those two things aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive_ , a little voice nagged in the back of her head. 

She stood, dusting off her hands before nestling the little envelope on top of the pink box, and then hurried, half-running to her car. She couldn’t bear the thought of Hades pulling into the drive just as she set down the box of baked goods, his gaze cold and uninterested or, even worse, pitying. What could he want with a small town girl who had been expelled from college? Persephone couldn’t even hold it together long enough to finish her Masters. _There was no way an attractive, successful lawyer would want to have anything to do with the compost heap that is my personal life. Or lack thereof_. 

  
When she got home, Persephone silenced her phone and tossed it onto the couch as though it had done her a great personal offense. So she didn’t discover the text until hours later when she fished her cell from between the couch cushions to check her email. But when she did open up her messages, the three texts from Hades were all she thought about until she drifted off to sleep. 

> Kore, thank you so much for the delightful (and delicious) gift. I hate to admit it, but you were right: a little celebrating did not, in fact, cause any grievous bodily harm and it may have made the evening a little sweeter for myself and the pack. 
> 
> I’ve never had baklava so exquisite, but I can’t say I’m surprised; you put so much passion into everything you do and I am truly humbled by it. 
> 
> Thank you again. I hope you have a wonderful evening. :-)

He enclosed a photo of a beautifully plated piece of baklava, flaking honeyed crust contrasting with the grey stoneware, another shot of the pack sitting obediently while waiting for what she presumed were her homemade dog biscuits, twin waterfalls of drool spilling from Cerberus’ jowls, and one last picture that she saved to her phone to visit over and over again. Hades had taken a selfie, raising his empty plate up to the camera, his smile sheepish, but wide enough to show off his dimples. His hair was rumpled and unkempt, his glasses slightly smudged, but the happiness on his face was unmistakable. Persephone wrapped her arms around her knees, her skin aching with the need to hold tightly to something, anything, but especially him. She had never wanted anything so badly.

  
The next morning she woke early, stomach full of butterflies. It was planting day. The first of many planting days, but she was so excited she could barely eat the oatmeal and fruit she had prepared the night before quickly enough. She ran down the three flights of stairs to her car and was on the lonely road to Hades’ home just as the first rays of the sun began to peek over the horizon. She was a buzz of nervous energy, humming along to the radio and occasionally interjecting with her mental shopping list. Abels Emporium’s for the Rosa Maria and the Echinops sphaerocephalus—The Grove for the trees, certainly, but she would plant those last—and for the columbine, Queen of the Night, and Bachelor’s Buttons she would venture further afield to Gerovit’s Garden Center, because they had the best selection of showstopper plants. 

As soon as she pulled through the gates and began to nose her boxy little car along the drive, her pleasant buzz of eager energy transformed into writhing anxiety. Hades’ fancy car was still parked in the drive, more dented and dusty than before, but definitely there, tangible, solid, and still. _He was home. Hades was home for the first time in weeks just after she made him food. Did he want to thank me in person? Or, oh fuck, did he want to let me down gently?_ She parked her car and rested her head in her hands with a groan. It was too early in the morning for this shit. 

Something heavy collided with the car and Persephone screamed, lashing out with her hands and hitting the steering wheel hard with her left palm and smacking the right against the door-frame. Another thud and Cerberus’ big head popped into view, his hot breath fogging up Persephone’s side window. She laughed reflexively in relief, slumping over the steering wheel. _Sugar snaps, I thought I was seconds away from getting mauled by a bear. Do they even have bears in Virginia?_ Cerberus whined, leaning his weight against the side of her car once again. 

And then, the bellow from a very familiar voice: “Goddammit, Cerbie, if you leave even a scratch on Miss Kore’s car, I will turn you into a rug!” Cerberus, fully aware that his master was bullshitting him, licked the window, car jiggling slightly with the force of his wiggles. Persephone collapsed into fits of helpless giggles as Hades stormed out of the house, striding to the car with a look of angry determination, shirt untucked, flaxen hair even more disheveled than it had been the night they bumped into each other. “Cerberus! Come here!” 

With begrudging grunt, the mastiff flopped off of the running board and plodded over to meet Hades, who was glaring fiercely at his disobedient pup. Persephone smiled, opened her door, and stepped out into the golden light of the morning with a yawn, suddenly thankful that she hadn’t worn the ratty bleach-stained band shirt she had considered this morning. “Heya, stranger!”

Maybe she imagined it, but for a moment, Persephone could have sworn the tension on Hades’’ face relaxed slightly. “Hello, Miss Kore. I hope Cerberus didn’t damage your car.”

“It’s fine, I’ve had this car for years. The old thing is more dent than car at this point.”

Hades smiled ruefully. “I should have left an hour ago, but Cerberus has been seriously contending for the title of world’s biggest asshole this morning." Cerberus, who had sat down and was leaning all of his weight against Hades’ legs, thumped his tail in agreement. 

Persephone grinned, fondling the dog’s ears. “Aww, did somebody steal zucchini bread again?” She muffled his ears and stage whispered conspiratorially to Hades, “I think I can talk my client into taking a plea bargain." 

“Worse." Hades rubbed his hands over the left side of his face. Persephone noticed just the slightest glimmer of stubble along his sharp jawline. “He stole my clothes and my razor and by the time I caught the dumb bastard, my shirt was ruined.”

“Oh no, is he okay? Did he cut himself on the razor?” Persephone began checking Cerberus’ flappy jowls for any cuts. 

“He’s fine, he doesn’t touch the blades: he loves chewing on the handle.”

“Well, I’m sorry Cerberus was such a naughty boy,” Cerberus wagged gratefully at the acknowledgement, “but it’s nice to see you. It’s been a while." Persephone smiled up at Hades, hoping she didn’t come off as too pushy. She had missed him, of course, but she didn’t want to seem like she was guilting him into spending time with her. 

Hades looked at her intently, an unfathomable expression flickering across his face. “I know. It’s been too long." He broke eye contact with her, rubbing the nape of his neck. “The funeral home needed more renovation work than I had feared and it’s consumed my every waking moment.”

Persephone groaned sympathetically. “That’s too bad, Hades. Is the place in bad shape?”

His head was tilted to the side, his gaze resting downward on Cerberus, and his clear blue eyes flickered up to rest on her face. “It’s an older home, Victorian maybe, so it needed some restoration work in addition to all layout changes we’ll have to make for it to function well as a funeral home." She nodded, listening intently, and his shoulders relaxed a little bit. “We’ll have to move around some walls and convert the living room into a preparation room, but that’s probably the most drastic change. Honestly, now that we’re getting the godawful wallpaper out, the place has improved tenfold.”

“Wow, that’s quite the undertaking." Hades snorted and Persephone groaned and covered her mouth. “Sorry, I guess I’m not yet awake enough to resist unintentionally shitty puns." 

“I enjoy your jokes, Miss Kore, especially the spontaneous ones." He flashed a slight smile at her and she could feel a little shoot of warmth budding in her rib cage. _Hades thought she was funny_.

“Thank you. I’m not really known for my spontaneity, but I like making you laugh." That tiny vine of hope withered up and died with embarrassment the moment she finished her sentence. _Fuck, that had sounded so much smoother in her head_. The siren song of her unlocked car door was beckoning her. _That’s right, Kore, slink away in shame. Way to remind him that you’re always transparently eager, small-town girl_. She could feel the shame radiating from her cheeks and was sure Hades could as well. 

But Hades just smiled widely at her, his eyes crinkling. “Neither am I, if I’m honest. But perhaps this is a chance to _turn over a new leaf_?” He waggled his eyebrows and grinned wickedly at her.

Persephone groaned and smacked her palm against her forehead, secretly awash with relief. “Oof, I was really rooting for you, but that was corn-y. You should really leaf gardening puns to an expert." She flashed him a bright smile. 

Hades bowed his head, schooling his expression into the utmost seriousness. “I thought it was a bit mulch. Thank you for your sage advice." 

Persephone giggled. “Sorry to kale your vibe.”

“I’ll get clover it." Hades shrugged, trying to hide his smile.

Cerberus let out a huff and flopped over onto Hades’ feet with a groan. The pair looked at each other for a long moment, both trying to stifle their laughter. Persephone glanced over at the dark soil of the beds. “Well, if you need a break from demolition work or wallpaper removal and are feeling spontaneous, I’ll be making trips to the local nurseries for the next few days and doing some planting. You’re always welcome to join." She smiled shyly up at him, suddenly aware again of how utterly desperate she must seem. 

Hades’ eyes darted to his car then returned to her face, searching her expression. He drew his mouth tight with a look of determination and Persephone steeled herself for the impending rejection. “How about today?”

“That’s okay, you really don’t—wait, today today?”

Hades’ face was still tense, but he cracked a slight smile. “Yes, though I don’t want to impose.”

Persephone beamed. “It’s no imposition, I just didn’t expect that you’d want to come!” She opened her front door and rummaged around for her purse. “Hermes said he could drive me to the nursery, I’ll just double check that he has enough seats. If not, I’ll drive us and we can meet him there." 

“No!” She glanced over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. Hades had shifted awkwardly, arms crossed in a deliberately casual attitude, cheeks slightly flushed. Is he… jealous? “I mean, I have a trailer we could use. That way we don’t keep Hermes from his work.”

“I didn’t figure you for the trailer type, Mr. Klymenos.”

He spread his arms wide with a grin. “What can I say: I’m an enigma wrapped in a mystery, Miss De Metre." She tried to hide her wide smile behind her hand, but failed miserably. What a dork.

* * *

  
She agreed to take the Range Rover, but of course, not without a bit of a fight, not that Hades minded. “My car is perfectly fine for a quick trip to the nurseries!” Persephone stretched her arms out proudly, as if she were showing off a top of the line model and not the dinged and slightly rusted box in a color just a little too reminiscent of pea soup for his liking. “And I think you’re forgetting, I’ve been there,” her hands were on her hips now and _Christ, that baggy shirt doesn’t do much to hide the tantalizing curve of her—no, focus!_ —“loads before and you don’t even know the way.”

“That, Miss Kore, is why I have you and a little something called a Global Positioning System." She rolled her eyes and huffed, clearly unconvinced. “Besides, I wouldn’t feel right about you putting miles on your car and using up gas when I have a perfectly fine vehicle designed for towing sitting unused in the garage.”

“Are you suggesting, Mr Klymenos,” she arched one lovely eyebrow, eyes bright and teasing, “that your Range Rover is the environmentally-conscious choice?”

“No, just the correct one." 

“Ugh!” He was rewarded for his audacity with another huff from Persephone. She scowled playfully, crossing her arms across her chest and chewing at her lip in thought. Hades really hoped the soft light of morning would disguise the faint beads of sweat forming at his temples, as well as, uh, some other things. “Fine, you win this time, but you’re up to seventy-five percent scoundrel now.”

“I suppose I should let you choose the music, then." He hoped she didn’t notice the tremor in his voice or how quickly he bounded off to get dressed and get the car ready. As he rummaged around in the back of his drawers for anything without holes that could be mistaken for a work shirt, Hades kept muttering, “This is not a date. Don’t get excited." True, it wasn’t a date and it certainly wasn’t the formal dinner he had imagined—a crisp navy suit, the sleek cocktail dress clinging to her soft curves, her lips against a wine glass, her head thrown back in laughter or perhaps more—but, to Hades, even a few hours spent traipsing around a garden center with Persephone would be bliss.

  
Persephone had snatched up his CD case with a happy squeal the second she clambered into the passenger seat, thumbing through each sleeve with a growing look of incredulity. “This is a lot of CDs." She looked up at him, eyes wide. “You really have a thing for dad rock, huh?”

Hades snorted.

“Oh c’mon, you have to admit that owning more than one Fleetwood Mac CD definitely makes you a Dad." She glanced over at him, wiggling her eyebrows. “Unless you‘re afraid to accept the truth.”

Hades smiled smugly, struggling to keep his gaze focused on the road ahead and not at the vision leaning across her seat towards him. “Well, I certainly don’t mind when you say it." And then, as his brain caught up to his mouth, a little part of Hades’ soul flew out of his body and through the windshield to splatter like a bug on the glass. _FUCK!_ A scarlet blush burned at his ears, spreading across his cheeks like wildfire. He couldn’t bear to look at her, but he knew he must, and with a heavy gaze and an even more leaden heart, he snuck a glance at Persephone’s expression. 

She was doubled over in her seat, face buried in her hands, body shaking. Painfully, Persephone sat up, clutching her stomach, eyes squeezed tightly with the force of her silent laughter. “Ha, Hades, he, I’m so sorry. I’ve g-got the—” she dissolved into peals of laughter, her head thrown back. 

“Do you need water?” She nodded, coughing a little with each laugh. Hades slowed to a stop in the middle of the empty back-country road and rummaged around for the cooler behind him. He had packed water and a few light snacks just in case. He fished out a water bottle and handed it to Persephone, who was now wiping tears from her cheeks and trying to catch her breath. 

After a long minute, her chest began to rise and fall more regularly and she slumped against the seat. “Giggles,” she finished lamely, “I had the giggles." 

Hades arched an eyebrow. “If those were just giggles, I’d better not make any more Freudian slips, or you could explode.”

“Oh yes, you definitely wouldn’t want to do that, would you?” she breathed ridiculously, batting her eyelashes suggestively while rolling her eyes.

Hades gulped, eyes fixed ahead with the glassy stare of a man awaiting execution. Or, more accurately, a man trying to redirect his traitorous blood flow. 

Persephone snorted and returned to the CD case, thumbing through it absently. “Wow, I didn’t realize Radiohead made so many albums.” The world outside was a hazy gold and once again, Hades began to relax into his seat, lulled into comfort by Persephone’s soft murmuring of band names, “Nirvana, Modest Mouse, OK GO, wait, Hades, what’s Spoon?” 

Hades nearly drove off the road. “You’ve never heard of…" She met his astonished gaze with a befuddled look. "You know what, why don’t we listen to _Kill the Moonlight_? It may not be your taste, but it’s a good…” 

Persephone had already slid the CD into the stereo and, spirited away by the opening bars of Small Stakes, Hades almost felt young again. He sighed with pleasure, leaning back in his seat and focusing on the winding road in front of him. They had decided to skirt around Perdition: apparently the closest nursery, although far out of town, was pretty much a straight shot from his home. As much as he tried to focus on the asphalt, a somewhat unreasonable amount of his attention was trained on his passenger, who was tapping a finger against her thigh to the beat. Even so, he almost missed her quiet murmur of “Ninety-three.”

“What?”

Persephone glanced up at him with an absolutely impish expression. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you said, Mr. Klymenos. You’re now up to ninety-three percent scoundrel." 

Hades gulped. He was doomed.

Persephone patted the handle of the green wagons. “We’ll need a few of these, but let’s maybe just take two to start." Despite their height difference, Hades almost had to jog to keep up with the gardener. She was already humming excitedly, navigating her cart expertly around the rows of greenery. 

Hades slowed to a stop, glancing around to take in the view. The nursery stretched almost to the horizon, a kaleidoscope of every imaginable shade of green, red, brown, purple, and yellow foliage and so many bright flowers that it almost made his eyes hurt. Three massive greenhouses obscured the treeline. It smelled green, like damp earth and rot, crushed leaves and the subtle dissonance of dozens of clashing blooms. He glanced down at his blue linen shirt, well-tailored jeans, and Italian hiking shoes. Who was he kidding? He had absolutely no idea how to deal with plants; even Hermes would have been more help to Persephone. _This had been a terrible idea_. 

“Heya, did you get lost? Luckily for me, you’re tall enough that I can find you in anyplace but the arbor.” Persephone bounded back into his field of vision, magenta curls swaying in the breeze, bright smile beckoning him like a lighthouse beacon. She was always beautiful, but to watch her in her element, warm skin glowing in the early morning sunlight, hair wild, eyes bright was like nothing Hades had ever seen. Persephone was a goddess, surrounded by her green and leafy worshippers, shining brighter than the sun. He was sure he was staring, slack-jawed, eyes wide, leaning on his cart to support himself against the sudden weakness of his knees. Persephone was close now, within arm’s reach, close enough that he could see the little particles of dirt clinging to her arms, muddying her knees. She slowed, tilting her head slightly in the maddeningly endearing way he was secretly fond of. “You okay? You’ll start growing roots soon.”

Hades inhaled slightly, shifting self-consciously. “Sorry, I was a little overwhelmed by how massive this gardening center was. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many plants.”

Persephone shrugged. “You get used to it. I’m jaded: I worked at a botanical garden in college so I’m used to feeling dwarfed by vegetation." 

“Well, in all fairness, Miss Kore, you are fairly petite.” Hades arched one eyebrow. “I imagine it isn’t difficult for the local plant life to tower over you.”

She playfully poked his arm, brows lowered in a mock scowl. “Well, excuse me for not being a giant.”

He bowed graciously. “You are pardoned.” 

He was rewarded for his insolence by a friendly smack to the arm and an outraged cry of “Ninety-five, Hades! Now, stop distracting me.” Persephone crossed her arms, reaching into her bag for a little notepad and a pen. “So I wanted to ask you about ground cover. It’s not in the plan, but they have a really great selection of herbs here and mint is a great ground cover. Bees love it, the whole bush will be alive and humming with them, and it has really delicate flowers.” She glanced up at him, tapping the pencil against her chin. “Mint is really invasive, though, so you’d run the risk of choking out the other plants in the bed. But I know you love to cook, so it might be worth the trade-off.”

“In that case, I’d rather not risk it.” Hades tried to ignore the little pang in his chest. “I’m not terribly fond of mint anyway, but if it will attract pollinators, maybe we could plant it in the forest undergrowth?” His eyes rested on the curve of where her jaw met her neck, afraid to look at her when saying something so like a confession: “I really would like to mainly place blossoming plants near my home. I like the idea of being able to look out every window and see flowers.”

“I’m glad I asked!” Persephone jotted down a little note on the paper. “This nursery has an incredible selection of flowering plants and a lot of the staples we need for the garden. Do you have any strong preference for where we should start?” She smiled up at him and Hades ached with how badly he wanted to tuck those errant curls behind her ear, tilting her chin up in one fluid movement, and gently press his lips—“Earth to Hades, please come in.”

_Christ._ His eyes must have drifted down to those perfect lips. _Shit, you might as well start drooling_. “Please forgive me, Kore. I, um, clearly didn’t have enough coffee this morning.”

She nodded, absentmindedly brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Oof, me neither. Maybe we should grab some on the way back. Now c’mon—“ And then, like it was absolutely nothing at all and certainly not the sort of gravitational shift that could send planets spinning from their orbits and that certainly sent shockwaves through Hades’ entire body, she reached down and wrapped her small fingers around his hand. “I have something I want to show you.”

He didn’t know where she was taking him and, frankly, he didn’t care. Tall stalks of some leafy, jungle plant whipped around him, blossoms and fruit of every color passing by in a blur, the only constant was her warm, strong fingers laced between his. His skin felt hot and cold, body suddenly not enough to contain all the swirling emotions pooling in his gut. Her little hand like a magnet, a lodestone, and anchor. A heady cocktail of endorphins rushed through his veins, like the first time he had had sex, but Christ, he was getting this way from holding her hand. _Just breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Focus on your surroundings. Center yourself._ They were walking beside a bush with white flowers and it brushed against his pant leg, sending little eddies of petals and a heavenly scent wafting up to him. 

Persephone glanced over her shoulder at him, hazel eyes bright, smile wide. “Almost there! Okay, close your eyes." Hades nodded, shutting his eyes obediently as she led him slowly forward. He trusted her. “Alright, careful here, the gravel is a little slippery. And step over the hose, yeah, just about two steps forward and… okay, you can open your eyes." 

Hades opened his eyes, squinting slightly at the brightness of the morning light cresting the trees, and immediately his gaze arrested on bright, cornflower blue blossoms. Bright as the noon-day sky and somehow more vivid, the bachelor’s button plants surrounded the pair, swaying softly in the gentle breeze. The exact same flowers had sat on his kitchen counter for more than a week: the first flowers anyone had ever given him. A small bumblebee flitted lazily from blossom to blossom, completely oblivious to the tall, enraptured man and the small woman watching him with an eager smile. “Emesh, the manager, ordered a whole pallet extra for me. I thought you could help me pick some out?” She gave his hand a little squeeze. “We’ll probably need twenty or so.”

Hades turned to look at Persephone, swallowing hard in an attempt to rid himself of the lump in his throat. “You got these for me?”

“Well, yeah." She looked down at the plants, away from his searching gaze. She let go of his hand, kneeling to gently move an errant caterpillar from the walkway to the shady earth beneath the shelves of plants, gently murmuring, “They’re your favorite, so I thought we could get extra to fill any possible gaps." Hades had never been so acutely aware of how empty his hand felt until the moment she released it from her warm grasp. He cleared his throat, bending over one of the plants to distract himself from the feeling of cool air flowing between his fingers. 

Persephone peeked up at him, her expression suddenly sheepish. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume. It is your garden, after all.”

“What? No, no, I was just thinking about how wonderful these would look from the living room windows.” Hades smiled reassuringly and felt a little flutter in his stomach when the tension around her eyes relaxed, the sunniness returning to her smile. 

“Yay!” She bounded up to her full, admittedly not impressive, height and bounced on the balls of her feet. “Oh, Hades, I’m so excited!” Hades tried very hard not to glance down at her breasts as she practically skipped around him and failed tragically. If she noticed, Persephone had the grace not to say anything, instead chirping, “I’ll get the carts, stay right there! Go ahead and pick out your favorites, then we can maybe pick out some Rain Lilies for your Moon, uh, I mean, Night Garden.” She bounced away, glancing back over her shoulder at him with a wide smile. “Back in a second, Hades!”

He raised one hand in a small wave and she returned the gesture with a happy laugh before disappearing among the greenery again. As he heard her footsteps retreat into the soft clattering of stones and was sure she couldn’t hear him, Hades leaned against the shelves, inhaling deeply before practicing the words he had been turning over in his head all morning: “Persephone, er, Kore, I was wondering if perhaps you would like to get dinner some evening.” 

He sighed, running fingers through his slightly-too-long hair. “Not that I have any clue if there are restaurants within an hour’s drive that would be nice enough for a date with you. Hell, I don’t even know what sort of date you’d like best.” He groaned. “Fuck, I doubt you’ll let me stumble along this far, but I just…” He looked towards the already too-bright sky and muttered, “I just like spending time with you, I guess.”


	11. The Attention that Comes First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone and Hades have several important conversations while planting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! Thank you so much for your patience. :)
> 
> This chapter will be very fluffy with one notable exception: mention of child death. As usual, I have set off any difficult sections with a pair of asterisks. 
> 
> Much thanks to the lovely Miss_Understood, Little_Miss_Rainstorm, and the incomparable whiskeywrites for looking over the sappy bits. 
> 
> And, as always, I owe my dear, sweet frost giant all the love and devotion in the world for many reasons, not least of which is beta-reading this chapter.

The two emerged from the garden center a few hours later with five carts of plants: Persephone, a happy and chattering flurry of hands and Latin names, Hades a somewhat sunburnt, but smiling and certainly willing audience. “So they’re actually endangered now in their native habitat because there are so few grain crops that aren’t either treated with herbicide regularly or planted with a very competitive variety. And don’t even get me started on the lack of crop rotations.”

Persephone huffed in disgust and Hades felt his heart skip a beat. His face hurt from smiling, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d never met someone he would honestly describe as delightful, but here she was, less than two feet away from him, positively glowing in the midday sunshine.

She suddenly grew quiet, glanced over at him out of the corner of her eye. “Sorry, you can always tell me to stop.” He stopped pushing the cart, searching her face. Persephone was looking sheepish, not quite meeting his gaze, slowing her walk to a crawl. “I know plants aren’t your thing and you’ve been such a good sport about my ramblings, but please tell me to stop if you’re bored.” She finally stopped, glancing up at him shyly through her lashes before looking down, twisting the hem of her shirt. “I um, I don’t get to talk about this much and I guess I just got carried away.”

Now it was Hades’ turn to take her hand in his. He gently set his hand over hers where it rested on the cart handle, squeezing gently. “Kore, please don’t stop. I may not know very much about botany or anything plant-adjacent, but your passion is,” he drew in a breath, pausing for an infinitesimal moment to gather his courage, “breathtaking. You make me want to learn more, truly.”

Persephone met his eyes, hers wide and disbelieving, his full of warmth and something more. “Really?”

“Yes. I may be a lawyer, but I promise not to lie to you.”

She snorted and as her slightly worried expression evaporated, Hades reluctantly removed his hand from cradling hers. The day was bright and comfortable, but his hand felt so terribly cold away from her touch. They started pushing the carts towards the Rover and attached trailer. After a few moments of silence, Persephone cocked her head, smirking up at him. “As if you could fool me, Klymenos. I can read you like a book.”

“Oh.” He didn’t like that one bit.

Clearly, his concern showed on his face because Persephone laughed. “Don’t worry! You’re a good book, Hades, if a little less mysterious than you think.”

“That is reassuring, Miss Kore. I wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

“I happen to think that you’re an absolutely gripping read” Persephone smiled up at him and started loading their purchases onto the utility trailer. The two worked side by side in companionable silence, Hades struggling to hide his wide smile and the warmth blooming across his chest.

  
  


The drive home was uneventful. After some pleading and an absolutely heart-wrenching smile, Hades relented and let Persephone play one of his old college mix-tapes. He did not relent, however, on letting her roll the windows down. The air conditioning worked perfectly well without the added hazard of errant insects flying out at him. Aside from the anxiety of hauling a trailer, glancing in the rear-view mirror after every jostle and bump, the journey was pleasant and relaxing. Once or twice Persephone excitedly bounced in her seat, beaming over at him. “Oh, I know this one!” He could have sworn she hummed along quietly to High and Dry, her voice sweet and low, barely audible above the hum of the motor. Hades relaxed in his seat, reveling in the warmth on his skin, the open road stretching before him, and the beautiful woman sitting beside him.

The sound of howling and barking broke the peaceful stillness as the Rover and the ridiculously loud trailer clattered along the drive. Persephone covered her mouth with a hand, stifling a giggle. “Looks like somebody’s been missed.”

“They just know that I’m the one that feeds them.” Hades grumbled, putting the car into park.

Persephone made a skeptical sound and opened her door, hopping out into the sunshine. She yawned before stretching languidly, arms reaching towards the sun, eyes closed, back slightly arched. Hades couldn’t resist peeping at the lovely expanse of her stomach revealed by her slightly too-short shirt. Persephone glanced across the car at him with a slight smirk and Hades blushed, ashamed of himself.  _ God, she must think you’re an old creep _ . Instead, the mercilessly tempting and endlessly merciful woman shrugged. “What can I say, I like to do a little yoga before planting.”

“You’re such a millennial.”

Persephone stuck her tongue out at him and Hades’ eye twitched. “And you should really start stretching more, old man.”

“Hmpf.” Hades clambered out of his seat with a little more effort and complaints from his joints than he’d like to admit and moved to start unloading the plants. “I’m not that old, Miss De Metre.”

“Oh, Hades, you don’t have to do that!” Persephone was at his side in a rush. “I really appreciated your help at the nursery, but planting is something else entirely.” Something shifted in her face, like a shadow darting across the sun. “I’ve taken up so much of your day already. I know you have things to do at the funeral home. I don’t want to impose.” Hades moved to lift the pot and Persephone gently rested her hands on his forearms, stilling his movement.

“Kore, you’re never an imposition.”

“Maybe, but like you said, the renovation is a huge commitment. Besides,” she leaned against the trailer, smiling up at him with a playful smile that didn’t quite reach her searching eyes. “I wanna earn this paycheck. It won’t be the same if the boss is helping me plant.”

_ Is she trying to let me down easy, asking me to give her space to breathe? Maybe she’s tired of spending her day with a grumpy old ma _ n. Hades gulped, steeling himself. He had made a promise to himself, to Hecate. Time to gird his loins. “W-what if I’m not the boss today? Just a friend helping you plant.”

A soft, tentative smile—a real one this time—crept across her face and she gently lifted her hands from his forearms. “Okay. If you’re sure, Hades.”

Hades focused intensely on the pot of rosemary, trying to hide his shit-eating grin. “I’m sure the plumbers will manage without me for one day.”

“Awesome!” Persephone picked up a pot and hoisted it onto her hip. “Let’s maybe start with the herbs and then maybe the flowers and grasses? Once we get everything laid out the way you want the actual business of planting shouldn’t take more than a few hours. I can do the watering-in myself after we finish.” Hades nodded, lifting his own plant and following behind the diminutive gardener, not bothering to hide his besotted look. His face hurt from smiling, but it was the kind of pain he could get used to.

  
  


Persephone depotted the last plant with practiced ease, shifting it just slightly to the left as she placed it in the ground, scooping the moist earth around the roots of the XXX. Hades gave her a thumbs up. “Perfect.” She smiled and shifted back onto her heels, basking in the glow of a well designed, if somewhat sparse, planting. Bright marigolds peeped from between the dark foliage of the Cotinus shrub. The deep blues and purples of the  _ Centaurea cyanus, _ towering Musk Thistles, and Spiderwort made the orange flowers of  _ Asclepias tuberosa  _ and gently nodding blossoms of the  _ Lonicera sempervirens _ glow like lit candles. All together, the whirl of color, texture, and rhythm approximated a particularly vivid impressionist sunset. It was stunning.

Persephone made to stand, wincing at the soreness in her knees, and Hades stepped forward. “Can I help you up?”

She smiled and took his offered hand. “This is why yoga is so important. Gardening is hard work.”

“Indeed it is. Which is why you,” Hades smiled down at her, blue eyes warm, a slight smudge of dirt and the slight sheen of sweat only making his stubble look more perfect, “need to eat something, Miss Kore.”

She nodded and opened the lid of her water bottle, greedily drinking the sweet, cold water until she had to stop for breath. She wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her t-shirt, watching the way Hades’ Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. Fuck, he’s handsome: all tight muscle, precise movement, and almost immaculate control. Persephone could only imagine what he would look like when he—she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks and coiling in her belly.  _ Nope. Don’t fantasize about your friend-boss, uh, boss-friend? Especially when he’s literally two feet away from you in a sweaty shirt that hugs him just right, looking at you with such hungry eyes. Oh shit, he’s looking at you _ . Persephone cleared her throat. “Would you like a snack?”  _ Nice going _ . “I, uh, brought some protein bars.”

Hades confused expression smoothed, eyes twinkling.  _ Can lawyers read minds? Shit _ . “That’s very kind of you, but I wouldn’t dream of stealing your food.”

“Well, you’re in luck, because we’d actually be sharing, Mr. Klymenos.” She rummaged in the cooler and turned to him, waggling a bar like the world’s worst salesman. “I’ve got chocolate peanut butter!”

His blue eyes snapped to hers and, with a jolt, Persephone realized he had been looking at her ass. He must have realized she noticed, because the tips of his ears began to turn pink and he coughed, expression only slightly guilty. “Uh, I was actually thinking about cooking something for you, uh, for us.” He reached up to rub the back of his neck, posture uncertain. “There was a sale on sweet potatoes at the supermarket, so I bought too many and I’m afraid I won’t be able to eat them all before they expire.”

Persephone grinned, belatedly reaching up to hide the smile behind her hand. 

Hades frowned, forehead wrinkling. “What, do you have something against buying produce in bulk?”

She giggled, shaking her head. “No! I just can’t imagine you walking around the local Food Lion, that’s all. I thought you’d get groceries delivered or have a butler do your shopping.”

“I’m a funeral director, Kore, not the Crown Prince of Denmark; of course I do my own shopping.” Hades crossed his arms in a feigned look of irritation, but Persephone knew him well enough to see the twinkle in his eye and the slight smile dancing on his lips.

“I suppose I was thrown off by your regal bearing. And the fancy cars.”

Hades humphed good-naturedly and smirked down at her. “If you continue to insult my character with such slander, Miss De Metre, I shall have to fix you a very begrudging meal.”

Persephone grinned up at him, lifting her chin and arching her eyebrow. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

Hades shook his head, unable to restrain his smile. “Indeed we wouldn’t.”

“Then lead on, my liege.” Hades cast her a nonplussed look and Persephone snickered. He was cute when he was grumpy. She began to follow him to the back door before she froze in sudden realization, looking down at her muddy feet. “Oh, shit, Hades, are you sure I can come in? I don’t want to track mud into your house.”

“Just leave your shoes outside. Don’t worry: I promise the dogs have tracked mud into every inch of this house.” They both kicked off their shoes and stepped inside to be greeted by an avalanche of eager dogs all begging for attention.

After a brief but somewhat contentious debate, Persephone finally convinced Hades that she was not only capable of helping him prepare the meal, but eager to help. “Klymenos, if you expect me to sit on my hands while you chop fresh ginger and prepare the chickpeas, you’re dead wrong.”

“You are my guest, Miss Kore. Not only that, but you spent the entirety of your morning working on my garden.” He turned back to the fridge, rummaging in a bottom compartment for the yams. “All you need to do is visit with me, if you feel like it, while I cook.”

“Nope, not today.” Persephone crossed her arms and scowled fiercely up at him. “Today, I’m your friend and I insist. Besides,” she tapped a finger against her chin, smirking up at him. “A conversation is always better when you’re preparing food together.”

Hades grumbled, but both he and Persephone knew that she had won the argument. He strode off to look for a step-stool as she began scrubbing the sweet potatoes in the sink. Well, balancing on her tiptoes and trying to. Hades must have all the cabinetry custom-made, because it was at just the wrong height for her. Somehow she always managed to forget just how big he was, his hands the size of dinner plates, towering over her by more than a foot.

He returned bearing a wooden crate and grimacing. “This is the best I can do, I’m afraid.” He placed it in front of her and she stepped onto it hesitatingly. She realized, with a little jolt of embarrassment, that she wore unmatched patterned socks, one bee-patterned, one forest green polka dots. Hades, if he noticed at all, was too much of a gentleman to say anything. He smirked up from where he knelt on the floor. “It’s almost as if I didn’t plan on having to share my kitchen with such a diminutive person.” Hades stood in one smooth, effortless motion and reached for a cutting board, placing it in front of her with a smile. “I can finish the sweet potatoes if you wouldn’t mind grating the ginger.” Persephone nodded mutely, trying not to be overwhelmed by the heat radiating off of him and the tangy smell of his sweat. 

  
  


Watching Persephone perched on a wooden crate in his kitchen, carelessly comfortable in her mismatched socks and leggings, close enough to brush elbows with as they worked made Hades hope in the most bitter and satisfying way. She looked at home, like she belonged in his house as much as she had found a home in his thoughts. With difficulty, Hades wrenched his gaze away from her and focused on pricking the potatoes. After a few moments of silence, he began to speak, “Earlier, Miss Kore, you mentioned you could read me like a book.” She smiled slightly, not looking up from the ginger she was peeling. “I’m very curious: what sort of book did you mean?” 

“A good one. With space pirates.” She beamed up at him smugly and he’d swear she put the sun to shame.

“Mmm, because I’m a scoundrel?”

“Precisely!” She hopped onto the crate and leaned over the counter slightly to grab the grater, shooting him a wry smile over her shoulder. Hades gulped and looked away from her absolutely perfect, uh, form, focusing on his own task. “I mean,” she gently began to scrape the ginger root against the grater, filling the kitchen with the sweet, tangy scent. “that isn’t the only reason, though. Science fiction is all about dressing ethical quandaries and philosophy into space suits and shiny tech. It doesn’t get much more lawyer-y than that.”

“So my former career defines me, Miss Kore?” He knelt and placed the yams into his bottom oven, resisting the urge to gaze at Persephone from this new--and very tempting--angle.

“Not at all!” She gestured excitedly with the stump of the ginger root, almost teetering off the box in her eagerness. Hades half-crouched, raising his arms to catch her, but the gardener righted herself and continued. “The past is prologue. This is science fiction, remember, the horizons stretch to infinity.” She grinned down at him. He was still frozen in an awkward squatting position and, cheeks burning, moved to assume a more casual position. “It’s my favorite genre, actually.”

“Really? Why?” He could listen to her talk for hours. He could imagine her now, small feet tucked under her as she sat on his couch, cradling a steaming mug of tea and flitting from one topic to the next with barely a breath between, eyes full of fire and light.

Persephone set the grated ginger to one side. “Does the garlic also need grating, Hades?” He nodded mutely and she stood on her tiptoes to reach the bulb resting near the back of the counter. Hades took the opportunity to stand unobserved, wincing at the soreness in his joints.  _ Maybe yoga wouldn’t be such a terrible idea after all _ . “I mean, it’s a fun genre for a lot of reasons: it’s hokey, self-referential, sometimes a little too optimistic about the future in an endearing way.” She laughed softly, eyes focused on peeling the garlic bulb. “When I was little, I absolutely idolized Lieutenant Uhura. When I wasn’t studying, I spent my Saturdays glued to the TV watching Star Trek reruns.” Bulbs peeled, she began to grate slowly, occasionally looking over at Hades. “She was so smart, funny, and capable and everyone took her seriously. I didn’t see many characters that looked like me on tv shows and Uhura was everything I wanted to be when I grew up.” She smiled to herself and Hades felt his heart melt a little at the thought of a young, wide-eyed Persephone determined to make her mark on the world. “At its best, science fiction looks clear-eyed to the stars, taking in the vast coldness of space and the uncaring nature of the universe, then focuses back on humanity. Faced with infinite meaninglessness, people try to create meaning: holding tightly to the ones we love and keeping each other warm.” Hades nodded, drawing his eyebrows together in a look of concentration. He made a mental note to research books she might like that evening before bed. She looked away shyly, tucking a magenta curl behind her ear. “I suppose it’s because I like imagining the world differently, y’know?”

“I understand the impulse. It’s what drew me to the death industry.”

“Really?” She perked up, hands halting in their delicate task, eyes bright. “You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to.”

“Are you sure? Death generally makes people uncomfortable.”

Persephone shrugged. “So do plants, honestly.” At Hades’ skeptical look, she continued. “Most people are fine with flowering plants, but once you start talking about fungi and insect life, they get a little uneasy. Besides,” she glanced longingly at the tap, “my throat is a little dry and I’d love to hear any voice but mine for a while.”

Hades quickly plucked a glass from the cabinet and, ignoring her protestations that tap water was just fine, filled it from the cool pitcher he kept in the fridge. Persephone took the glass with a smile and drank greedily, eyes closed contentedly. Hades let his gaze rest on her for just a moment too long, uncomfortably conscious of how similar her expression was to one he had imagined many, many times over. He shifted slightly away from her, closing his eyes, trying to avoid embarrassing himself with an ill-timed hard-on. She set her glass down, looking over at him expectantly, her gentle eagerness in her face overcoming his reticence. “If you insist, Miss De Metre.” They continued to work in silence for a few moments while Hades gathered his thoughts. 

**As the pair continued with their separate tasks, Hades began. “I suppose it found me as much as I found it. When I was eight, a boy in Posie’s class drowned in a river. I had only been to funerals for distant relations and the death for an older person is much different than the untimely death of a young child.” Persephone was watching him with rapt interest, her pace slowing as she nodded along to the story.**

He turned his gaze to the tray of chickpeas and continued, trying to talk about these things as though they happened to another person. “It was the first time I fathomed that death touches us all: not in the abstract way of finding dead animals and mourning their short lives and lonely ends, but that the people I cared about most would one day die and that I would be left with nothing but my grief.”

Persephone made a sad noise and Hades glanced up at her for just a fleeting moment. She had ceased working and was leaned against the counter, hands slack, her expression soft and compassionate. “Hades, I’m so sorry. That must have been a terrifying realization for you.”

“It was, but more for my parents than me. I spent the next few weeks sneaking into my brothers’ rooms and sleeping at the foot of their beds. My father was not happy and confined to my room when I wasn’t at school, for all the good it did.” He laughed bitterly, ducking his head.

“Let me get this straight,” Hades glanced up at the sudden change in her tone. Persephone was scowling, arms crossed. “You were a kid who had just gone through a traumatic experience and he was angry that your response was to try and protect your brothers?” She furrowed her brow, expression thunderous. “What an ass. He’s lucky I can’t get my hands on him.”

Hades felt his heart skip a beat, warmed at the mental image of this tiny woman ready to throw punches on his behalf. “That he is. You may be small, Kore, but you’re certainly fierce.”

Her posture relaxed and she smirked. “Was that supposed to be a subtle reference to Shakespeare? You’re such a nerd, Hades.” He snorted and moved to preheat the second oven when Persephone reached out and placed a hand gently against his arm, arresting his movement. “I’m so sorry, Hades.” He glanced down at her hand—small and warm, resting against his bare skin like it was the most natural thing in the world—swallowed, then looked up into her eyes. 

Persephone regarded him with a soft expression, lips slightly parted, eyes shining, cheeks flushed a deep rosy brown.  _ Was she about to kiss him? _ He banished the thought instantly. She gently squeezed his arm and looked away for a split second, smiling nervously. “I know it’s silly, but… I mean, I can’t imagine what your childhood was like, but I have a fraught relationship with my mom and,” she drew in a little breath, maintaining eye contact with an expression of earnestness. “I guess what I’m trying to say is: can I give you a hug?” 

Hades’ eyes felt like they were about to pop out of his skull, his jaw slack. Persephone raised both her hands with a look of alarm. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have overstepped!” 

Hades missed the warmth of her touch instantly. “Kore.” The plea came out as a quiet croak. 

“No, Hades, it’s fine.” She turned away from him and bent over her cutting board, eyes shining slightly, then glanced over at him with a bashful smile. “I’m better with my plants than with my friends.”

“Kore, don’t say that. You are one of the kindest, most generous people I’ve ever met.” She looked away from him, clearly embarrassed. He could have stopped there. Maybe he should have. But he had promised this incredible woman standing beside him that he would be honest and not finishing his thought felt tantamount to lying. “I would deeply appreciate a hug, but you don’t have—”

The end of the sentence was pushed from his lungs in a rush of air as Persephone, half-leaping from her stool, wrapped her arms around his midsection in a tight, though not uncomfortable, hug. Hades drew in a shuddering breath, lowering his arms to gently wrap around her shoulders. Her head was nestled against his sternum and he could feel the gentle heat of her breath against his shirt as she murmured. “You deserve kindness, Hades.” He closed his eyes, breathing out slowly, trying to memorize every small detail of this cruelly perfect moment: the feeling of her skin against his, the strength and softness of her shoulders, the faint smell of dirt and perfume, the tickle of her hair against his bicep, and the sweet rhythm of her breathing. His heart thundered in his chest, so loud he felt sure Persephone could feel the vibrations beneath her cheek. His ears felt hot with reflexive embarrassment but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care: she held him, he held her, and all was right in the world. 

But, as is the way with all perfect things, the moment had to end. His stomach gurgled and Persephone giggled, squeezed her arms around him once more, and then let go, turning to look up at him with wide, smiling eyes. “Okay, what can I help with next?”

  
  


They chatted easily as they finished preparing the meal, but Persephone could sense that something between them had shifted. Hades seemed more relaxed, eyes crinkling with every dimpled smile, moving with practiced ease from ingredient to ingredient. He had set the sweet potatoes on a rack to cool slightly before plating and Persephone surreptitiously watched him bend over to open the oven from the corner of her eye as she whisked the tahini, ginger, vinegar, and garlic together. 

Hades stirred the chickpeas before humming in satisfaction and pulling out the pan. “Hot pan behind you, Kore.” She caught the flicker of a smirk dancing along the corner of his mouth, tracing her eyes across the line of his jaw, the absolute confidence of his movements.  _ Fuck, it isn’t the only hot thing in this kitchen _ . 

After waiting for what seemed an eternity—one that Persephone spent salivating over the heavenly smell of garlic and ginger and the godlike man that had prepared it—the meal was ready to eat. Persephone dove in with abandon, nearly burning her tongue on the hot sweet potato. Hades watched her with a grin, delicately blowing on his own forkful. “Careful, you’ll burn yourself.”

“Mmm, hungry. Don’t care.” 

Hades grinned and, for a brief moment, Persephone could imagine what he looked like as a younger man with fewer worry lines, gaze teasing and eager. “Well, I couldn’t forgive myself if you got injured. What would I do around here without a gardener?”

Persephone winced, gulping down a long sip of water to soothe her burned tongue. “You’d manage just fine, Hades.”

“A bold claim, Miss De Metre, seeing as I’m still unclear on the distinction between poison ivy and virginia creeper.”

She lifted a bite to her mouth, breathing gently against the steaming potato. “Well, you probably shouldn’t touch either.” 

“Duly noted.” 

The pair lapsed into silence, both focusing on their plates while sneaking surreptitious glances across the table when they thought the other wasn’t looking. Cerberus and Fudge snored contentedly sprawled across the kitchen floor, Mushroom and Russell played a very noisy game of tug on the living room rug, and Cordon Bleu watched the humans from the back of the couch with reproachful, glittering eyes. J.P., disturbed by the rowdiness of the younger dogs, stiffly uncurled himself from his spot on the rug, padded to the kitchen, and slowly stretched out by Hades with a grunt, resting his greying muzzle on his master’s feet. 

“Persephone, there’s something—”

“So how’s the funeral—” She laughed awkwardly. “Sorry, you first.”

Hades chuckled self-consciously, setting his fork down on his plate. “No need to apologize, really.” The tips of his ears were beginning to turn pink and he glanced away from her, sudden trepidation eclipsing his easy manner. “Persephone, uh, Kore, I’ve been thinking a lot lately and I was wondering if you, um, that is." Hades scrubbed his face. A pleasant tingle of anxiety and excitement danced across Persephone’s skin. “Christ, I’m bad at this. What I mean to say is would you be willing to—“ 

A loud and obnoxious ringtone cut him off. Persephone groaned, closing her eyes tight and pinching the bridge of her nose.  _ She could have sworn he was about to ask her out. _ “I’m so, so sorry, Hades. Let me just turn off the ringer.”

Hades made a magnanimous gesture, smiling ruefully at her from across the table. “Please don’t worry. You can take the call. It could be more clients clamoring for your green thumb, after all.”

Persephone stood, pushing her chair back from the table, and rolled her eyes. “I fucking wish. It’s my mom.” She half-jogged, half-slid across the slick floors to rummage in her purse, grousing all the way. “I gave her the most distinctive ringtone so I’d have time to prepare myself before the hammer drops.” 

Hades raised his eyebrows and made a helicopter blade noise. 

Persephone giggle-snorted, turning off the phone’s volume. “More like a drone." She straightened and turned around to face Hades with a sheepish grin. “I’ll have to call her back when I head home: if she doesn’t hear back from me within a few hours she might report me to the sheriff’s office as a missing person.”

He grimaced at her sympathetically as she sat back down. “That seems, uh, excessive.”

She snorted into her potato. “Excessive doesn’t begin to cover it, honestly. I think my mom knows the worst time to call and does it to spite me." She scraped at the sides of the potato, not wanting even a single bite of the delicious meal to go to waste. 

“She does that a lot?”

“Oh yeah." She popped another bite into her mouth, chewing meditatively. “I think she does it because I’m less likely to argue with her when I’m in the middle of something." She laughed awkwardly at the look on Hades’ face. “Conversations with her are more like pitched battle than anything else, but hey, who has a good relationship with their mom in their twenties?”

Hades nodded, though from the softness of his eyes Persephone guessed he was agreeing more out of support than any personal experience. “Do you need to head home to prepare?”

“In a bit, but I am having a nice meal with a friend and she can wait.”

“A nice meal?” Hades smiled widely, flashing his ridiculously perfect teeth. 

Persephone leaned towards him across the table. “An excellent meal, in fact. With a wonderful friend.”

“Ah. Well, um, that’s actually what I wanted to ask you about.” Hades’ smile grew a little tight at the edges, resembling a wince more than a smile, and he reached up to rub the back of his neck in the nervous gesture Persephone was growing more fond of day by day.  _ I wonder if he had longer hair at some point. It’d look good on him _ . “Kore, would you maybe like to have another meal with me sometime?” 

Warmth blossomed in her chest and she couldn’t help the wide smile spreading across her face. Hades rushed on, unable to stop now that he had started. “There aren’t many restaurants with decent vegetarian options in this town, so I would also be happy to cook for you again. If you want to, obviously.”

Her legs couldn’t quite touch the floor, but if they could, they would be bouncing with excitement. Still, she would maintain her composure. Play it cool, small-town girl. She bit her lip, smiling at him with a teasing expression. “A meal as friends, Hades?”

Hades looked at her for a long moment and then, like the midday sun blazing out from behind clouds, he flashed her his best smirk. “What do you think?”

Persephone could almost feel every atom buzzing and vibrating with excitement. “One hundred percent scoundrel, Hades.”

“I aim to please, Miss De Metre.”

“You certainly do.” Her cheeks hurt from smiling, but she couldn’t stop. She hadn’t felt this giddy since she was a teenager. “How about Saturday at six-ish? There’s a little Italian restaurant close to main street that has good pasta.”

“Wonderful,” Hades breathed, eyes locked on her. His gaze was somehow both soft and intense, the smouldering embers of a fire that could flare at any moment. “It’s a date.”

“It’s a date!” Persephone tried very hard not to levitate off her chair. She now understood why bees communicate through dancing: sometimes words are not enough to convey the ecstasy of life and the body must pick up the slack. And, god, how this man made her body sing. 


	12. Podfic Announcement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Certain Kind of Eden now has an audio version!

Hello, lovelies! This is not a new chapter (obviously), but a very cool announcement! INeedMoreHadesBeforeISwoon has been making audio versions of a few fanfics and she generously offered to make one for Eden! 

Text isn't the most accessible format and, with the holiday busy season approaching for many of us, an audio recording makes enjoying this little story a little more convenient for everybody. She's breathed so much life and character into the story and I'm so excited to share it with you guys! 🥰

[Link to the Google Drive Folder](https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1BAMXNh1naaVO_j9fcxIB9-nlvQJGvva5?usp=sharing)

All the thanks to the wonderful Swoonie for taking on this project! 😊


	13. Bulbs Crushed Underfoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone is confronted by Hades' past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Thank you so much for your patience during the long months between updates. This chapter and the next one are going to be difficult to read because they deal with the accident and the news coverage afterwards. 
> 
> It's going to be a heavy chapter. Please read with discretion; I promise I will not be upset if you need to skip. Your mental health is paramount in these already trying times.
> 
> Trigger warnings for airplane accidents, criminal negligence, death, and references to an abusive relationship. As always, I have marked particularly triggering passages with a double asterisk and will provide a summation in the end notes. Thank you all for reading!
> 
> My utmost gratitude to my dear frost giant, without your advice and encouragement my writing (and the world) would be far less interesting.

Persephone spent the whole way home singing along to the radio enthusiastically, if a little off key. She practically floated up the flights of stairs to her apartment, ignoring the two missed calls from Cybele until she was settled on the couch with a cup of tea. Even the long phone conversation with her mother couldn’t faze her. Each time Cybele mentioned coming home for Easter, which Persephone apparently owed her mother after deciding to celebrate her birthday by herself, all Persephone had to do to ease her heart rate back down was think of the little shy smile that danced on Hades’ lips when he said “It’s a date.”

Despite the massive haul they planted, Persephone still had her work cut out for her. Some of the more ornamental bushes and unusual flowers could only be found at a select few nurseries and she needed to venture nearly two hours’ drive out of town to an arbor to procure the fruit trees. Hades had assured her that she could use the trailer whenever she needed it. To make matters even sweeter, he was there every morning when she arrived, ostensibly to help her attach the trailer, but they both knew Persephone could handle that alone.

They had fallen into a routine of sorts: Persephone would park her car, ducking her head to hide her wide grin, and would wave at Hades as she clambered out. Hades would be leaning against his porch, affecting the most casual pose he could manage before cracking a cheeky smile. “Good morning, Miss Kore.”

“Hi, Hades.” They’d stand looking at each other for a few long moments, both grinning like fools before one of them broke the silence with small talk, which was itself an excuse to spend more time together. After some minutes, Hades would help Persephone attach the trailer, volunteer to carry her tools across the yard, or do whatever little thing would allow him to delay the leaving for a little bit. Eventually, though, he had to leave and Persephone would wave at the receding tail lights as he crawled down the drive.

Today marked the third time since planting day they had carried out this ritual and both were becoming adept at it. Persephone had picked up the lemon, peach, pomegranate, and lime trees yesterday after testing out the irrigation system she had set up and today--much to the glee of the dogs who reveled in digging, smelling, rolling in, and generally being nuances in the general vicinity of the soft earth--it was another planting day.

  
  


At the sound of crunching gravel, Persephone glanced at her watch with a bemused frown. It was only 12:30. Surely Hades wasn’t done with repairing the siding already? _ Maybe he decided to stop by for lunch _ . Fighting back a grin, she straightened, massaging her lower back as she strolled to the gate.  _ What’s taking him so long? He usually buzzes in. Maybe he’s trying to be sneaky and surprise me? _ She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun and waved with the other. She squinted at the car idling just before the gate for a few moments before the realization hit her. Hades didn’t take a convertible to work. And he definitely didn’t own a cherry-red car. Maybe it was a friend? Though she couldn’t imagine Hades not telling a friend the code. He had given it to her even before their first meeting.

As Persephone drew closer, the driver waved, still seated in the car. “Hello there!” With a perfectly manicured hand, she adjusted her oversized sunglasses. “Mind letting me in?”

Persephone stopped just short of the gate, trying not to gawk perhaps one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. Her long, shiny deep red hair was gathered into a perfectly jaunty but polished ponytail and she had the flawless tan of someone who spent summers sunning herself on the beaches of the French Riviera before club-hopping at all the most exclusive venues. Persephone couldn’t imagine her driving along the backroads of Virginia and yet she seemed to blend in seamlessly with the crisp, polished lines of Hades’ house. The gardener cleared her throat, painfully aware that she had been silent for far too long. “Sorry. Um, hi! I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

The woman turned off the engine and stood up in one elegant, perfectly controlled movement, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. She towered over Persephone, watching her with cold blue eyes. “You wouldn’t be. I came to surprise Hades.” The woman gazed past Persephone to scan the driveway. “Is he here?”

“Uh, no. He’s out for the day.” Persephone shifted awkwardly. Something about this woman put her on edge and she couldn’t help but feel ashamed of her instant distrust. J _ ust because she’s calm and in control of herself _ — _ and yeah, a little icy _ — _ doesn’t make her a bad person, Kore. _

The woman’s eyes flickered downward to take in the muddy knees of Persephone’s pants, then met her eyes again with a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Ugh, that’s so typical of him. He hates being around when there’s work to be done on his property.” She rolled her eyes in what Persephone assumed was meant to be a sympathetic gesture. “Hades isn’t terribly fond of mess.”

“He’s actually in the middle of a renovation project across town.” Persephone could feel her blood pressure rising and, as if sensing her discomfort, Cerberus trotted over to sit by Persephone’s side.

“That’s better, actually. Makes this more of a surprise.” An expression Persephone didn’t like flickered across the woman’s face. She extended her hand across the gate with a perfect, glittering smile. “I’m Hades’ girlfriend, Minthe. It’s nice to meet you…”

“Um, Persephone.” Her mouth had gone dry.  _ He has a girlfriend. Stupid small-town girl, of course this was all too good to be true. _

“Persephone. Could you be a doll and let me in? I’d text Hades, but my coverage is terrible out here in the sticks.”

Cerberus shifted slightly and Persephone reached down to pet him. His hackles were raised slightly. The distrust twisted into dislike in Persephone’s gut. “Actually, I’d be more comfortable if I called Hades and asked.”

Minthe grimaced sympathetically. “Ahh, so you’ve already witnessed how controlling he is with the help. If it makes you feel better, go ahead and call him.” She waved a hand dismissively, reaching down to adjust her purse.

Persephone dialed. A cold knot of dread had settled in her gut, leeching the warmth from her bones.

Hades answered, somewhat breathlessly. “Hi Kore, did Fudge roll in something?” She could hear the smile in his voice and it bit like a knife in her belly.

“Don’t worry, Hades, the dogs are all behaving themselves. I’m actually calling because your girlfriend is here?” She hated herself for the way the sentence ended in a question, how desperately she wanted him to reassure her that this was all some misunderstanding or some cruel cosmic coincidence. Maybe this off-duty model was looking for another Hades.

“Oh, um… I guess I assumed we’d have a conversation first before deciding on labels, but if that’s something you’re—”

Persephone’s hands were shaking now, she could hear the blood pounding in her ears. This joke had become too cruel for her taste. “It’s just that Minthe doesn’t know the code to your gate. Should I let her in?”

There was a long moment of silence and then Hades spoke. “Persephone, do not under any circumstances let Minthe onto the property. I need you to take the dogs and get inside the house. I’m walking to the car. I will be there in twenty.”

Persephone’s eyes darted to Minthe, who was watching her with the same intense stare a hawk might give a mouse. Cerberus shifted his weight, placing himself between the small woman and Minthe with a grunt, watching the new arrival with unblinking brown eyes. “Okay, I can do that.”

“She’s right there, isn’t she?”

“Mhmm, I should be done with the planting by this afternoon.”

“Fuck,” he breathed out slowly. She could faintly hear the crunch of gravel. “Kore, I promise I will explain everything when I get home. Minthe is my ex: things ended badly between us, which means she’s either there to attempt to wheedle her way back into my life or to break the things I care about. I know it’s a lot to ask right now, but I need you to trust me.” She could hear the crackle of a shuddering inhalation and the slamming of a car door. “Please stay inside with the dogs; I don’t think she would try anything, but I don’t want to risk it.”

Persephone’s heart thudded in her chest, nausea churning in her gut and breaking over her in icy waves. Minthe leaned against her car, watching the gardener and dog from the corner of her eye with a slight smile. She reminded Persephone of nothing so much as a snake coiled and ready to strike. She swallowed and spoke as casually as she could manage. “Would you like me to give Mushroom his medicine with the dogs’ lunch?”

“Thank you.” His relief was palpable, even over the phone. “I’m so sorry, Kore. You don’t deserve to get caught up in all my fucking bullshit.” The crack in his voice pierced her to her core. “I’m so, so sorry, Persephone. I’ll be there soon.”

“Of course. Drive safe.”

“I will.” A silence stretched between them for a few moments before Hades disconnected the call. Persephone slid her phone into her pocket and looked up at Minthe with forced cheer. “He said he’d prefer to greet you himself and that he’ll be here soon.” She reached down to ruffle Cerberus’ fur. “If you'll excuse me, the dogs need their afternoon meal and Mushroom needs his pills.”

“Oh, sure, ‘Mushroom.’” Minthe stood up straight, languidly walking until she was standing close to the gate. “Why don’t we speak frankly to each other? You and I both know Hades wouldn’t name a dog after a fungus.” Persephone quirked an eyebrow and was about to respond before Minthe held up a hand and cut her off. “Let me guess, he told you not to talk to me? Typical lawyer; he always has to control the narrative.” She took one step forward, lifting one arm to rest against the gate, leaning forward to make eye contact, her lips pursed in an expression that was designed to evoke the confessional. “He’s just resentful that there are some things not even the best publicist can spin. I’m sure he didn’t mention that I’m his publicist. Judging from your reaction when I got here, I doubt he mentioned a girlfriend at all.” Her smile was sickly sympathetic.

Persephone met Minthe’s eyes and crossed her arms. “It’s been lovely to meet you, but that sounds like something between you and my boss and, like I said, I need to get back to work.” Cerberus stood, eyes still fixed on the tall woman leaning against the gate.

“I don’t expect you to believe me: we just met. Tell you what, why don’t you search your employer’s name on Oracle and read a few of the things that come up? It’s only right that you find out what kind of man you’re working for.” Her voice was velvety poison that dripped with condescension.

Persephone could feel anger prickling across her skin. She wanted to leap to Hades’ defense, recite all of his virtues until she wiped the smug smile off this horrible woman’s face. _ But do you even know him, really? You didn’t know about Minthe, what else could he be hiding from you? But then again, she doesn’t really seem to know Hades very well. _ Persephone drew herself to her full height, staring up at Minthe with flinty resolve. “Of course, the man I’m working for is also the man you are dating.” She tilted her head, angling her jaw up by just a fraction of an inch. “I can’t imagine being with someone whom I so clearly disdain.”

Minthe’s jaw closed with a sharp click and Persephone felt a little rush of victory. But the tall woman quickly regained her composure. “So what? I’m brutally honest.”

“That’s nice and I’m sure Mr. Klymenos appreciates it, but as I mentioned, I have to get back to work. Hades should be here soon.” Persephone walked toward the house, careful to not turn her back on Minthe. Cerberus plodded along two steps behind her.

“Persephone, I don’t expect you to believe me, but you deserve to know the truth.” Her tone took on a concerned tone that reminded Persephone just a little too much of Cybele.

Persephone brought her fingers to her mouth and let out a clear whistle, calling the dogs to her. “C’mere J.P., Big John, Fudge, Russell, Mushroom! Lunch!” Big John thundered across the yard, white fur matted with dark soil, the grey husky racing after her, followed by Russell and Fudge, who were sprinting as quickly as their short legs would allow, J.P. ambling behind them.

Persephone was tempted to shoot a last look at Minthe, but decided against it and followed the dogs into the house as nonchalantly as she could manage. As soon as she was in the house she locked the french doors, dashed to the front door—dodging the ever-energetic Mushroom and Fudge who were very eager to play the new fun game of ‘Trip the Panicking Persephone’—and engaged the deadbolt with shaking hands. Persephone felt nauseous and clammy, like she had ridden a roller coaster after eating something greasy.

She needed to sit down and gather herself before Hades arrived. Numbly, she kicked off her shoes and robotically moved to the couch, stomach churning. Cerberus and J.P. had already staked claim to the corners, but the second Persephone sat down the mastiff leaned over to rest his bulk against her. She drew her knees to her chest, scritching the dog’s velvet ears until her heart rate slowed and the room stopped spinning.

Persephone groaned, leaning forward to rest her forehead against her knees. “I should have known. This was all too good to be true.” Cerberus grumbled at her momentary lapse in petting, butting his head against her hand. “I mean, I figured a guy as interesting, funny, and—let’s face it—fucking gorgeous as Hades,” J.P. let out a huff, “might have a girlfriend, but I just...” She trailed off, closing her eyes tightly and grimacing. “I thought he would mention it.” If she hadn’t been so consumed by her inner turmoil, Persephone would have heard the sound of a very expensive convertible starting its engine and pulling out of the drive in a hurry a full fifteen minutes before Hades said he would arrive.

Cerberus grunted and shifted so that even more of his weight rested against Persephone, clearly angling to lay across her lap. Persephone let out a little laugh that was more air than mirth and moved so that Cerberus could sprawl across her, which he promptly did with a contented sigh. Cordon Bleu swaggered into the room, ignoring the scene before him and taking up his usual spot along the top edge of the couch, while the sounds of Russell, Fudge, and Mushroom playing with a rope filtered in from a distant room. Persephone absentmindedly scratched Cerberus’ chin, his happy tail thumps keeping time with her racing mind. “I mean, he asked me on a date. I guess I just assumed he was, well, unattached.” She groaned again. “Stupid, small-town girl.” Big John’s heavy footfalls announced her long before the white dog padded into the living room and flopped onto the rug with a grunt. Persephone leaned her head back, resting it against the back of the couch so she could look up at the ceiling. “He said she was an ex, though, and it’s not like she seemed to know him all that well. I mean ‘he wouldn’t name a dog after a fungus,’ please.” A little nagging voice in the back of her mind whispered  _ well, Kore, it’s not like you know him all that well either. Maybe that sweet, earnest thing is just an act. _

Persephone sat bolt upright, disturbing the snoring mastiff. “Nope! Not doing that. I’m going to wait to hear Hades’ explanation and I’m definitely not going to spend the next twenty minutes imagining the worst.”

She fished her phone from her back pocket and absently scrolled through a few MuseBoards before opening her news app. She had promised Artemis she would read her articles and, quite frankly, her latest one about the fishing reserve was a bit of a slog. Artemis was clearly passionate about the subject, but there were way too many flavor quotes and not enough context to keep Persephone’s eyes from glazing over. Maybe she should have started with the political corruption one instead.

Well, she had time to kill and she’d rather spend it reading about a modern-day Tammany Hall than the mating habits of salmon as described by a fishery worker. Persephone clicked on Artemis’ name and began to scroll through the headlines. She really had a flair for engaging headlines. Even the weakest entry, _ Stream to Table? The Hidden World of Salmon Hatcheries _ , was a more engaging title than the article merited. But the dryness of that article seemed like a bit of a fluke, because  _ Even the Game is Bigger in Texas: Exotic Game Hunting in the Lone Star State _ practically screamed Artemis’ usual fervor. She wrote about anything and everything from zoning laws in Seattle to the aftermath of a slow tourist season in the Florida Keys. Persephone felt a twinge of pity for her friend: the Times really did have Artemis pounding the pavement.

And then, as she scrolled further down the page, her blood turned to ice. There, in the innocuous bold, italic font of the New York Times was a name she was very, very familiar with: ‘ _ This Could Have Been Prevented’: Klymenos Firm Slammed with Allegations of Corruption Following Deadly Airplane Crash. _

**Despite her best intentions, Persephone had done precisely what Minthe had wanted. Her hands trembled just a bit as she clicked on the link. She was about to find out exactly what kind of man she was working for.

The moment the first photo loaded, Persephone regretted clicking on the article. She could make out the cabin of a passenger jet, but it was broken and twisted almost beyond recognition. In the foreground, wreathed in black smoke, a man was bent double, looking through the wreckage. Horror and revulsion twisted in her gut as she read the caption: first responder gathering identifiable information. Cerberus stirred, his weight and warmth an anchor as she began to skim through the first paragraph: one hundred people dead because of mechanical failure. Persephone had to blink to clear her vision, forcing herself to gaze at the few personal photos of the victims on the webpage. It felt exploitative, but something in her needed to remember their names, their faces.

She swallowed hard, breathing in a steadying breath of the now-familiar smell of Hades’ home: fresh linens washed in expensive detergent, spice from the kitchen, the scent of dogs, and the faintest whiff of cologne and cigar smoke. And then she continued on.

In the end, it all came down to a single bolt. One tiny piece of the plane that, due to a manufacturing error, couldn’t take the strain of repeated ventures into high altitudes and caused the landing gear to stall. Artemis provided a moment-by-moment narrative of the crash within the second paragraph. She was incredibly thorough: the level of detail was excruciating and—Persephone thought with a flash of anger—almost gleeful. Persephone clenched her jaw and skipped ahead until after the narrative of the plane’s final moments ceased.

And there, just as it appeared on the business card he had handed her more than a month ago, the words Hades Klymenos beckoned to her from where they laid buried in the middle of the third paragraph. His name twisted like a knife against her ribs, but she could not—would not turn back now. Drawing in a shuddering breath, wishing the dogs’ snores could drown out the roaring of blood in her ears, Persephone scanned the next section. There had been a whistleblower: a mechanic that had noticed similar failures in the fleet. He tried to take it to his bosses, but when that failed, he took it to one of the best mass tort firms in the country.

According to the mechanic, he met personally with Hades and was accused of “trying to stir up trouble” and “create a situation with the press,” neither of which sounded like things Hades would say. But, then again, that nagging voice reminded her, you’ve never seen him when he’s angry, Kore-Cob. She gnawed at the skin on her lip, brow furrowed in concentration as she read on. Hades had thrown the man out of his office, leaving the whistleblower to approach firm after firm. He finally contacted the federal government two days before the crash, but it was already too late.

As the article pointed out, Hades couldn’t have litigated the case anyway: his brother, Zeus Polieus, was elected to the Senate two years previously, but before that, he had worked for a handful of notable airlines, one of which was Astrapios Airways. Artemis reasoned that—even if Hades thought the man was trying to blackmail him—the lawyer should have pointed the mechanic towards a colleague who could investigate the case.

Persephone frowned, quickly scanning through the article. No comment from Hades himself, not that that surprised her much. For an article that Artemis mentioned as being about political corruption, it seemed more heavy-handed against Hades than his brother in the legislature. Artemis spent the rest of the article talking about the aftermath of the crash: the folding of Hades’ firm, Zeus’ statement at a press release, and of course, the funerals.

By this point Persephone’s gut was roiling with nausea, anger, and hurt. She just wanted to be done with the article so she could move the dogs and leave before Hades arrived. She longed for her own little apartment, an evening curled up on the couch, eating pasta, and weeping. And then, as she was scrolling past another photo of another funeral, she spotted a fair-haired man in an overcoat standing in the background. Her finger froze on the phone screen and she frowned, enlarging the picture. The man was turned slightly away from the photographer, eyes downcast, but he was unmistakable. She would know his face anywhere.

Frantically, Persephone scrolled back through the photos, searching for that oh-so-familiar sharp profile and searching eyes. Artemis only included photos from five of the funerals and Hades was in every single one. How did she miss this? Hades always stood in the background, hidden in plain sight, occupying a place in the fringes, well-dressed with the stiff, brittle posture of a man who has pushed himself to the brink of what he can endure. Persephone raised her hand to her mouth, sucking a tremulous breath through her nose, tears burning at her eyes. The dark circles under his eyes, thin line of his mouth, and the tightness of his expression radiated abject misery. She swallowed and closed her eyes, hot tears flowing down her cheeks. She knew what she had to do.**

  
  
  


Hades broke most of the traffic laws on his way home. Not that he really cared. He was too busy chanting fuckfuckfuck under his breath while imagining Minthe breaking into the house while Persephone tried to keep the dogs safe. Although, even if Minthe did manage to make it inside, he had seen what Persephone could do with a shovel. That girl could hold her own. This is all my fault. I never should have put her in that position.

By the time he reached his driveway, Hades had pushed both his nerves and the BMW to their respective limits. Minthe’s custom Porsche 911 was, as Hades suspected, notably absent. Of course she would leave the moment she no longer had the upper hand. He rolled up the long drive to the house and sighed with relief at the sight of Kore’s ugly Scion. He had teased her relentlessly about her car without realizing just how happy it made him to see the boxy abomination parked in his drive.

Hades took a deep breath and turned off the ignition numbly. And now came the part he had been dreading the whole drive home: explaining Minthe and all the putrescence that flowed through all their shared history. He stepped out of the car, every footfall on the drive punctuating the repeating litany of Kore will leave the moment she sees you. She would finally come to her senses, as he always suspected she might, and realize what she’d be giving up to be with him. He was just a sad, angry old man weighed down by decades of guilt, shame, and pain. Being with him would be a Sisyphean undertaking and he wouldn’t wish that task on anyone, especially her.

He had expected to be angry at Minthe, himself, or even Persephone, as he turned the key in the lock, but all he felt was a stifling sorrow that settled into his bones like damp cold as the tumblers clicked into place. Bracing himself as if against the cold of winter, Hades pushed open the door. As usual, he was greeted by barks, whines, and the general cacophony of his dogs, who were clambering over each other to get attention. “Shhh, shh, I know, babies.” He ruffled Mushroom’s ears, gently moving the dogs aside to step into the room.

“Hey.” Her voice was soft and a little husky.

Fighting against the titanic force rooting his gaze to the floor, Hades slowly raised his eyes to meet the gaze of the woman sitting at his island, nursing a steaming cup of tea. Persephone smiled at him ruefully before breaking eye contact, looking down at her mug. Her sudden shyness, raspy voice, and swollen eyes were enough for even a stranger to know she had been crying. He wanted desperately to cross the room, to gather her in his arms, and kiss her forehead until those worried lines faded into memory, but he stood fixed in the doorway, no matter how the longing burned against his skin like fire. This was all his fault. “Persephone, I—I’m so sorry“

She looked up at him and he noticed, not for the first time, the glint of steely resolve in her gaze. Gathering herself, she nudged out the stool beside her with a foot. “Hades, would you like something to drink?” Persephone smiled reassuringly, but her eyes lost none of their determination. “I think we need to talk.”

Hades uttered a silent prayer to all the gods he didn’t believe in that he had a chance in hell of mending things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artemis' article details the crash: 100 people died aboard the plane due to a mechanical failure that the company knew about beforehand. Hades was approached by a whistle-blower but turned him away, either because he feared blackmail or because he was protecting his brother. While he could not have taken the case, Artemis argues that it was his ethical duty to help the whistle-blower find another attorney. The plane crashed and everyone on board died. Persephone is absolutely gutted by the revelation. While she is trying to calm herself enough to drive home safely, she notices that every photo Artemis included from the funerals features Hades standing in the background, looking devastated. She decides to confront him and find out what really is going on.


	14. Knowledge of Good and Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An understanding is reached

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies! Sorry for the wait: this one was hard to write, but hopefully easier to read. Thank you all so much for your patience!
> 
> Once again, this is a bit of a rough one. This chapter should be less upsetting than the last, but there are mentions of the plane crash and the aftermath. I'll do the customary double asterisk for sections with particularly triggering descriptions. Also, Zeus is in this one, which is a content warning all its own. 
> 
> My deepest gratitude today and every day to my darling frost giant. Thank you so much for your inspiration, your editing, and the really good one-liners I'm contractually obligated to steal. I love you.

Hades fixed himself a cup of coffee, resisting the urge to pour a dram of scotch into the cup, as much as his hands itched to reach for the liquor. Persephone’s stiff posture had relaxed somewhat, but she remained guarded and largely quiet except for the occasional clink of her mug and a quiet sip. Despite the fear gnawing and roiling in his gut like a wild thing, her presence still filled his kitchen with the steady warmth of baked goods and sunlight.

As he stirred one teaspoon of Demerara sugar into his coffee, Hades blurted, “Kore, I’m so sorry. Please believe that I thought Minthe was out of my life for good. I’m so sorry for getting you mixed up in my bullshit.” Persephone started, her cup rattling slightly against the dark countertop. Hades soldiered on, looking earnestly into her wide, olive-brown eyes. “I-I should have told you, I know, but I just wanted to put that relationship—all the toxicity, hurt, and bitterness—behind me. I ended that chapter of my life months ago. Even if I hadn’t, I would have ended it when I met you.”

Persephone furrowed her brows in confusion for a brief moment before nodding. “Hades, it’s okay. I didn’t want to talk to you because of Minthe.” Hades sat opposite to her, weaving his long legs underneath the legs of the chair to give her plenty of space. Persephone looked down at her drink, folding and unfolding her hands in several different, and ever-more complex positions. Her hands were shaking ever so slightly, but her eyes met his and held his gaze. “I mean, at first I was upset, and I still wish you had told me, but I trust you, Hades.” She moved to cup her mug of tea, pausing for the briefest of moments. “If you say things are over between you, I believe it.” A rush of relief flooded through Hades, melting the icy dread that had clawed at his chest. He relaxed slightly, allowing his hope to escape in only the slightest of smiles.

Persephone reached across the table to gently squeeze his hand, her hand trembling a little. “Hades, I- um, I read an article about an accident. It mentioned you.” The words hit Hades like a sledgehammer to the solar plexus, driving the breath and the spindly hope from his lungs. His smile froze in place, twisting into a grimace, and his left hand gripped his coffee cup so tightly his knuckles turned white. Persephone must have felt his hand spasm in hers, because she bit her lip. “A friend of mine wrote it. I was browsing her backlog of articles and I recognized your name.”

“Fuck.” Hades put his head in his hands. “Persephone, I don’t—“

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. I just needed to ask…”

Hades was going to be sick. His kitchen spun around him. “Persephone,” he dragged his eyes up to meet hers, swallowing hard. “You deserve an explanation—and, god, I want to give it to you—but before we begin I need to ask: does Miss Jaeger know that we’ve been…” Hades cast around desperately for the right words. The last thing he wanted to do was presume that Persephone still felt anything for him but disgust. “um, that we are.. spending time with each other?“

Persephone frowned, pursing her lips. “No, but why does that matter?”

Hades sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face, trying and failing to hide his relief. “I ask because your friend has been especially, uh, dogged in her pursuit of me. Somehow she discovered my address and email and I now find myself the lucky recipient of almost weekly requests to provide an exclusive interview. I’ve already had to change my mobile number once.” He met her confused gaze with a bitter grin. “I would prefer you not suffer the same fate.”

She scoffed, “I hardly think Artemis would—“ but then paused, reconsidering. She bit her lip, a shadow crossing across her face. “Well, she did hunt that one guy across campus for an interview.” At Hades’ incredulous expression, Persephone smiled wanly, still chewing her lip. “I wish I was exaggerating. Her tenacity may make her a good friend, but once she sets her mind to something, she’s implacable.” She nodded, the steely look back in her keen eyes. “I won’t mention you, I promise.”

Hades nodded, wrapping both his large hands around his mug of coffee. “I’m sorry. I know this could strain your friendship.”

“I understand, Hades.” A teasing smile danced across Persephone’s lips and he wished more than ever that he could make her smile like that once more. “I’m pretty used to saying ‘no’ to Artemis anyway.” She schooled her expression into something far more earnest and Hades felt an anxious tug of foreboding, as though the rug had just been yanked from under his feet just as he made the first step down a tall staircase. “I would never ask you for more than you’re able to give, but if we’re going to continue, uh…” Hades leaned away, picking up a napkin and twisting it, waiting for the hammer to drop. Persephone scrunched up her face. “Look, I really like you, but wouldn’t be fair to either of us to continue with a relationship if you weren’t honest with me and if I weren’t honest about how this news is making me feel. Because it doesn’t make me feel good and,” she opened her eyes, meeting his unblinking gaze with a shy smile. “I want a relationship that makes us both happy.”

Hades tried to fight down the warmth blossoming in his chest, to stamp out the tendrils of longing snaking through his core. He had to look away from her. He couldn’t bear to say this while holding her eyes. Hades blinked and looked down into his coffee, lips pressed into a hard line. “Persephone, once you know the truth, you won’t want me.”

“Hades.” She reached across the distance between them to rest one of her perfect hands on his arm. Hades rested his gaze on her hand: her touch was firm and gentle, even the callouses dotted across her palm were soft and comforting, and her skin was the same warm brown of his coffee. “Please let me be the judge of who I do or don’t want, okay?”

Hades cleared his throat, glancing up into her kind face. The warmth of her hand was a balm, seeping into his bones like liquid courage. “I’m sorry, this is difficult for me to talk about.” She nodded and he continued hastily, desperately hoping she hadn’t misread his hesitations. “Please understand, I want to. I need to. I just—“ He paused, swallowing hard. “I wish I were the man that you think I am.”

Persephone furrowed her brow, but kept silent, giving Hades the space he needed to collect his thoughts. Still her hand rested against his arm, the weight of it a steady rudder in turbulent water. Hades took another long swig of coffee and began. “For all your friend got wrong, she got much of it right. She sketched together a rough outline of the events, and even if the details were,” he winced, “a little inaccurate, she got the shape of things right.” Persephone watched him with clear, steady eyes, but he could feel just the slightest shudder of her hand.

“I did know about the crash beforehand. The engineer, Mr. Finch, approached me a month and a half before the accident.” He could still picture the man perched in the chair across from his desk: a tall man hunched in on himself with a shock of copper-gold hair a little too long around the ears and bright, dark eyes that never rested in one spot for too long. Even if Hades could not see it then, Finch was a hunted man. His face would haunt the lawyer until his dying day. “At the time, I suspected he was attempting to blackmail me or extort money. It was fairly public knowledge, after all, that my family had connections to the industry and deep pockets. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had tried to strong-arm us into buying their silence.” He could feel the sharp twist of bitterness in his voice and paused, exhaling a deep breath while rubbing his closed eyes. “But whatever qualms I had about the man, I should have referred him to another lawyer, even though I myself could not represent him.

“What Miss Jaeger—uh, Artemis—could not know is that I did not take Mr. Finch’s concerns lightly.” Hades glanced up at Persephone, who watched him with an unreadable expression, one hand still wrapped around her now cold cup of tea. “Like I said, my family was connected to the company. I believe she mentioned the fact that Zeus had worked as a consultant for Astrapios Airways and that I had also invested a fair amount of money into their stocks.” Persephone nodded and Hades swallowed, steeling himself. The hardest bit was yet to come.

“Obviously, I needed to investigate Mr. Finch’s concerns further.” His gaze flickered to meet hers for a moment.  _ Not brave enough to look her in the eye while you tell her exactly what you are? You always were a coward, Blue Boy _ . He took a deep breath, hating himself for how much this truth would hurt. “I wish I could tell you that I did it because my conscience couldn’t rest until I had put my doubts to rest. But, if I’m honest,” Hades clenched his hand reflexively before looking up into her soft, beautiful eyes. He wanted to see the way she looked at him in that moment when hope turned to bitter knowledge. “I mostly looked into the matter to protect my investment.” The bitterness cut like a knife’s edge through each word, the admission so bitter it made his teeth ache.

“I met with Zeus that same week. For all of my brother’s failings, I didn’t expect him to take my concerns so lightly. I was proven wrong. “ Hades winced, looking down at the floor.

The memory was sharp, and each time he revisited it, it grew sharper still. Hades always hated visiting Zeus’ congressional office. The pompous, faux classical Colonial artifice—the pristine walls, marble busts, and polished surfaces—was bad enough, but the eager chatter of Zeus’ latest intern made the long walk to his brother’s office much, much longer. She stopped before half of the paintings and all the busts to give an impromptu monologue. Hades wished desperately she had set her sights on being a docent instead of a politician. She showed him into Zeus’ office with almost effervescent eagerness, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Here’s your ten o’clock Zeu—I mean, Senator Climes.”

Zeus flashed a boyishly charming, slightly crooked smile at her from behind a gigantic polished mahogany table. He looked the same as he had since college: an all-American man, clean-cut and polite, like something from a 1950’s educational film. “Thank you, Semele. That will be all for now.” The intern smiled at the senator, holding his eyes for just a second too long before turning to leave the room. Zeus nodded politely at the girl, but as soon as she turned around, his bright blue eyes wandered down to rest on her ass. As the door closed behind Semele, he looked up to smile widely at his elder brother. “Hades, what brought you all the way down here?”

Hades could already feel his blood pressure rising. “For god’s sake, Zeus, she’s practically a teenager. She can’t be much older than Ares.” He took a deep breath, angrily adjusting his cufflinks.  _ Don’t get involved. It never goes well _ .

Zeus shot his brother an irritated look before he shrugged. “Last I checked, it isn’t a crime to look. And if it were, I know Killjoy, White Knight, and Associates would have sent me a strongly worded email as soon as the bill was signed into law.”

“And this is why I no longer attend family brunch.” Hades crossed his arms, looking down his long nose at the senator. “As per my email, I came here on business.” Zeus opened his mouth and Hades cut him off with a raised hand, seating himself in the leather upholstered chair across from his brother. “The business of saving both our asses, Zeus.”

Hades paused to gather himself, reflexively lifting his empty mug to his lips. He grinned sheepishly at Persephone, color rising in his cheeks. Persephone smiled and lifted her own cup. “I’m out too. Is it okay if we take a quick break?” He nodded and she hopped off her stool and shuffled over to the kettle. “Need anything while I’m up?”

He was tempted to pour himself a fresh cup of coffee, but he could feel his hand trembling slightly on the kitchen countertop already. “No, but thank you for offering, Persephone.” More caffeine would only serve to make him more jittery. Hades cleared his throat, pushing the mug away from him. The kettle bubbled away and he could hear the soft clatter of Persephone making tea. He didn’t dare look up at her, didn’t deserve to bask in this moment of bittersweet domesticity.  _ This is something you’ll never have again _ . Hades stared down at the iridescent flecks in his countertop, idling twisting his napkin again just to keep his hands busy.

Persephone settled back in her seat, tucking her legs up underneath her. “Are you alright if we continue?”

Hades glanced up, stomach clenching with a fresh pang of anxiety. He nodded mutely, setting the napkin down before beginning again. “I told my brother everything, just as Mr. Finch had told me.” Hades paused, drawing his eyebrows together. “I, of course, removed the personal details about Mr. Finch. Even at the time it seemed, well, ill-advised to let Zeus know specifics about the whistleblower. Perhaps that should have been my first warning.” Hades could hear the bitterness in his voice and wished to god he had coffee to wash away the taste. “Zeus seemed oddly calm about the situation, which was another patently red flag that I ignored.”

  
  


Hades stared levelly across the burnished mahogany desk at Zeus. “I need to know if there’s any chance, no matter how slight, that these allegations hold water.”

Zeus pursed his lips. “Trust me, if they did, I would know about it. I have an inside source at the company”—he flashed a winning smile that inspired enthusiasm in the electorate and exasperation in a brother—“who isn’t exactly known for being tight-lipped.” And then, as if he were purposefully tap dancing on Hades’ last nerve, Zeus winked.

Hades clenched his jaw, sucking a long inhale in through his nose. When he was calm enough to speak, his words came in a snarl. “You need to take this seriously, Zeus. I don’t give a fuck about the lobbyists you’re sleeping with;” Hades stood, leaning across the desk until he was almost nose-to-nose with his younger brother. He hoped the chill of his cold fury would drive home the seriousness of their situation. He hissed, “I need to be absolutely sure that this alleged mechanical failure is just a half-assed attempt at blackmail and not a genuine concern.”

To his credit, Zeus didn’t even blink. “You underestimate me, big brother. I’m not only an engineer, my constituents rely on the income from the manufacturing plants. I heard rumblings and I even went to the trouble of waking up early to do an inspection of the plant myself: the planes are fine.” His jocular tone had evaporated, revealing the man of steel and ironworks beneath. “If you don’t trust me, trust my self-interest.” But Zeus would only lay his calculating soul bare for a moment, and then the mask was back. The coldness in his grey-blue eyes remained, despite his boyish grin. “This is an election year and I want to get re-elected, after all.”

Hades held his brother’s gaze for another moment and then stood, surreptitiously adjusting his suit jacket. “You understand why I have to be sure.”

Zeus waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah, you have to protect your investments. And, like it or not, we’re both in the image game, big brother.”

Hades snorted, relaxing slightly. “Something I never forget and you, conveniently, seem to never remember.”

“Oh, ha ha.” Zeus stood, opening a drawer to retrieve whisky and a glass. He didn’t bother offering any to Hades. His elder brother hated apple-flavored drinks. “You’re such a schoolmarm.”

“Better than being a prick.”

Zeus shrugged and took a swig. “I know which I’d prefer.” Hades rolled his eyes, hiding a slight smile. He always felt closest to his brother when they were needling each other. It felt like home.

“Hades—look, I know you’re used to being miserable,” Zeus said, his face and voice suddenly relaxing into a comforting portrait of fraternal sincerity. “God knows you’ve been through enough—our whole family has. Sometimes good things happen to good people.” He reached across the table to rest a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Look, I know you’ve been wanting to leave the firm for a while. And who could blame you?”

Hades sighed, feeling some of the tension leak from his shoulders. Zeus took another sip of his drink, smiling sadly at his elder brother. “But you don’t need to worry. From your investments alone, you should have a nice nest egg. Hell, you probably could go private! Do the whole goody-two-shoes pro bono thing for a while.” Hades groused. Zeus ignored him. “Whatever you plan to do, just promise me you’ll take some time off, okay? Drive out to the coast, show that lucky young lady of yours a good time.” Zeus smiled at his brother, grey-blue eyes shining with conviction. “You deserve this, Hades.”

  
  


Hades shifted in his seat, aware as he always was of the weight of Persephone’s eyes on him. “I knew I was being handled, but I desperately wanted him to be right.” He closed his eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So I ignored my better judgement and dropped the matter entirely. I had connections with a few consumer safety organizations: I could have alerted them, but I chose to place my trust on the good word of my brother and ignore my nagging doubts.” Hades opened his eyes, glancing at Persephone for a brief moment before dropping his gaze to where his hands rested on his thighs. A tightness was building in his throat and Hades could feel his voice begin to quaver. “And a few weeks later, the plane crashed.”

Silence hung between the two for a long moment. Hades kept his eyes downcast, training his focus on keeping his hands from shaking. It had been hard enough talking about the accident the first time in his therapist’s office, but sitting here in his kitchen, baring his deepest failures to a woman he cared for was, well, surreal. It was like the first day after a long illness where the world still feels like an out-of-body experience: woozy, off-center, a little too bright. And now that he had said all there was to say, he must now face the woman sitting across from him: his lodestar, his confessor, his judge.

  
  


Persephone had stayed quiet through the whole of his testimony, but only a man far more foolish than Hades would mistake her intense focus for calm. Stillness was a practice she had cultivated for years, but the keen brightness of her eyes always gave her away. She kept her eyes trained on Hades, analyzing his body language and facial expressions almost as closely as she followed his story.

And watching him hurt. If she had thought the abject misery in those few photos were enough to prepare her, she was wrong. They were from a distance, out of focus, but she had now spent an hour in a front-row seat to the undoing of a person. Hades was a big man, but he now sat curled in on himself, face waxy and pallid, emanating misery from every slight downturn of his mouth, movement of his hands, and the haunted look in his eyes. It felt like Persephone watched a time-lapse of him aging at least a decade.

“Hades, I—“ He didn’t move, didn’t seem to hear her. Persephone’s gut twisted with emotion and she reached out to touch him. “Hades?” She gently brushed her hand over his, softly stroking the back of his hands with her fingertips. After a long moment, Hades looked up at her, eyes tense and wary. “Thank you for trusting me with that. It was,” she paused, swallowing. “It was hard to hear, but I know it must have been harder to talk about.” She gently squeezed his hand. “Do you need a minute?”

Hades nodded slightly, but made no move to pull his hand away. They sat for a long moment, absorbing the late afternoon light, the clean, spiced scent of the kitchen, and the faint snoring of the dogs. Persephone continued to trace slow patterns across the back of Hades’ warm and surprisingly soft hand.

At last, Hades cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “How are you doing, Persephone?”

She started a little, lifting her hand from his. “I’m okay. Not great, but okay.” At Hades’ questioning look, she smiled a little, trying to reassure him. “The article was a shock and, even though I guessed the crash wasn’t entirely as Artemis portrayed it, it made me feel better to hear your side of things.” It was Hades’ turn to take her hand in his and Persephone relaxed a little in her seat. “It makes more sense. I just—I couldn’t imagine you being so uncaring, especially after seeing the photos.”

**Hades grimaced, his grip tightening for a moment, the lines around his eyes deepening. “I know. I saw it first on the news and the live footage was—” he breathed in heavily through his nose, “Horrific, hellish. That twisted shell will always be seared into my mind.”

Persephone nodded, chewing at her lip to keep it from trembling. The crash site had been like something from a nightmare: twisted metal rising up from the earth, fire and ash, and the scattered contents of a hundred suitcases mangled and unrecognizable in the dirt and smoke.**

“Honestly, I meant the photos of the, um, the funerals.” Hades’ eyes snapped to hers with a look of bewilderment. Persephone rushed on, gesturing with her free hand. “Artemis didn’t include many and they weren’t super detailed, but I recognized you.”

Hades’ shoulders slumped, the corners of his mouth drawn and downturned. He was clearly fighting for control and, with a jolt, Persephone realized that he was struggling to hold back tears. She reached toward him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Did you go to all of them?”

“Yes.” The word came as an exhalation, raw and reflexive. Hades closed his eyes tightly, clenching his jaw. “It was the least I could do.”

“Hades—“

“I took those people from their families, Persephone.” He looked at her intently, eyes red-rimmed and watery. “Believe me, providing for the costs and paying my respects was the absolute bare minimum.”

“Hades,” Persephone squeezed his shoulder gently, gazing into his eyes, hoping the weight of her conviction could pass between them. “You may not have done all you could do to investigate his claims, but that plane didn’t crash because of you. Clearly, the airline knew this was a problem and chose to continue flying anyway without fixing their equipment.”

His brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to speak, but Persephone cut him off, struck by a thought. “Remember the story about the coffee you told me? You said there were earlier cases of burnings where the lawyers advised their clients to settle. Would you blame those lawyers for the injuries the woman suffered?”

Hades pursed his lips. “I understand the point you’re making, but Persephone, that’s a slightly different case.”

Persephone chewed on her lip thoughtfully, trying to slow the train of argument crackling like lightning in her mind. “Maybe in specifics, but the principle is the same. The airline could have chosen to repair the gear, just as the chain could have served their coffee at a lower temperature. Both companies are the ones that put slightly higher profit margins over the lives and livelihoods of people.” Persephone leaned forward, furrowing her brow. “I know you blame yourself because you feel you could have done more to prevent the crash.But from everything I’ve seen, it seems like you’re doing more to make restitution for what happened than the party who is really at fault.”

Hades mulled over her words for a few minutes, eyes resting on a space just a few inches behind her, as though he were gazing through her. As if he were talking to himself, Hades began to speak. “Intellectually, I know you’re correct, Persephone. I wasn’t the only or even the greatest factor in the crash.” He glanced up at her with a sad smile. “I accept that it isn’t my job to save everyone. I was a lawyer, not a paramedic or a fireman. But my duty was not to harm anyone. By my inaction I failed both those people and myself.” Hades sighed, shifting his weight a little as if he just became aware of the heaviness of his own body. “I’m sorry, Persephone. I wish this were simpler.”

Persephone suddenly realized they were not only still holding hands, but that her hand had rested on his shoulder for at least five minutes longer than it should have. Fuck it, she liked touching him, holding him. Even now, as painful as reading that article had been and how little this conversation resembled their usual easy banter, she liked Hades.  _ I like being with him _ .

Hades, too, seemed to notice their interwoven hands for the first time in a while. Glancing up at Persephone, he gently pulled his hand away with an apologetic look.

“Hades, you don’t need to do that.”

“I just…” He breathed out heavily, as though the air were being forced from his lungs against his will. “Are you sure you still want,” he gestured between them with his now free hand—“whatever this is? I-I’m not a good man, Persephone. I’ve hurt people, and you…” He trailed off again and she raised an eyebrow in question. Hades blinked, looking down at her with a vulnerable, shy expression. “You’re a kind person, a good person.”

Persephone froze for just the briefest of moments, a sudden rush of guilt tightening in her chest.  _ I’m not as good as you think I am _ . She smiled self-consciously at the man seated across from her. “Well, I’m trying to be. I mean, I’ve done things I’m not proud of too.”

At Hades’ dubious expression, she continued. “You really shouldn’t put me on a pedestal, Hades. I seriously doubt I’d measure up to whatever lovely, gilded version of myself you could imagine. I probably wouldn’t want to be in the same room as her, honestly.” She scowled, pursing her lips as she drank a dramatic sip of her cold tea. “She’s probably really put together and judgy about it.”

Hades sputtered a laugh that was halfway between a cough and a choke and Persephone almost snorted out her tea in surprise. The pair dissolved into giggles that had more to do with the sudden release of tension and anxiety than anything particularly funny. Cerberus grunted and rolled onto his side with an aggrieved huff.

Once the giggles turned to wheezing and gasping for air, Persephone squeezed Hades’ shoulder with a fond smile. He reached up to rest his hand on hers, looking into her eyes with a soft expression. “So, Kore, how should we proceed?”

Persephone grinned. “You’re so formal, Mr. Klymenos.”

He looked away bashfully. “Sorry.”

Persephone reached up with her free hand to cup his face, hoping her smile could radiate the warmth and assurance she felt. “Don’t apologize. I like it; I think it’s sweet.” He leaned into her touch and they rested like that for a few moments, Persephone gently tracing her thumb along his jawline, before Hades pulled back with a shy smile. Her cheeks flushed and she shifted slightly on her seat to regain her composure. “Well, Hades, I think I’d like to take things slow and see where that leads.”

“Of course. I assume we won’t be meeting for dinner on Saturday, then.”

“Can we meet for coffee instead?” Hades quirked an eyebrow and she rushed on, acutely aware of the heat blossoming beneath her skin. “It’s just a bit less formal and more cozy, y’know.”

“Persephone, you don’t need to explain.” Hades smiled down at her, leaning forward to brush a wayward curl behind her ear. “I want you to be comfortable and, honestly,” he breathed a little laugh, “I’m happy doing anything with you.” He leaned back. He still looked harrowed, but his eyes were warm and soft as they met hers. “Coffee it is. When would you like to meet?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have a little announcement: I'll be taking a brief hiatus after next chapter to try and get out ahead of this story. I need a little time away to make the story feel fresh again and, quite frankly, I'd like to get a few chapters outlined so my release schedule can be a little more regular. But don't worry! The next chapter will be the promised coffee date. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and for all the love and support you've given this fic.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] A Certain Kind of Eden by AnArdentChangeling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27455749) by [INeedMoreHadesBeforeISwoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/INeedMoreHadesBeforeISwoon/pseuds/INeedMoreHadesBeforeISwoon)




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